


(Still) Chasing Rainbows 🌈

by BiteTheApple



Series: (Forever) Chasing Rainbows [2]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, M/M, Making Love, Out of work actor, York - England, light-hearted with a smattering of angst and a sprinkling of smut, living together for the first time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:22:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28089216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiteTheApple/pseuds/BiteTheApple
Summary: The sequel to Chasing Rainbows 🌈🌈🌈(Read that first if you haven’t already 😊)Unforeseen circumstances have forced Timmy to move in with Armie.But the course of true love never did run smooth - so buckle up and brace yourself for more York-based shenanigans in Charmieland!(The ‘E’ rating applies to some chapters but not others 👍)
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Series: (Forever) Chasing Rainbows [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2057829
Comments: 473
Kudos: 155





	1. Better Days

**Author's Note:**

> If you read it and like it, I’d love you to hit that little ♥️ kudos button - and a comment would be wonderful - thank you!

(Part One - Chasing Rainbows 🌈 [**here**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24357658?view_full_work=true))

Timmy felt the vibration in his front pocket but he was currently juggling two iced Frappuccinos in one hand, Archie’s leash in the other, had a York Press tucked under his armpit and a black plastic dog-poo-bag dangling from his wrist. So there was no way he could read the text message right now without some horrible coffee/shit/newspaper disaster unfolding.

He’d already had to stop once to hike up his baggy red trackies. They were threatening to slip down his skinny arse and the last thing he needed was to pull an accidental moony at the Special-Brew-Crew who were street-drinking around the fountain. He recognised some of them from the foodbank. They already took the piss out of his accent and his name, calling him Tiny Tim - so he kept his head down and his pants up and hoped they wouldn’t spot him. The text message would have to wait until he got home.

 _Home_ …it still felt very strange calling it home, despite Armie insisting he treat it that way. Although when he’d agreed to move in, he hadn’t imagined that picking up warm, freshly laid dog-turds would be part of the deal. But like anything in life, it was a case of put-up or shut-up. And besides, he didn’t mind all that much, because he thought Archie was just the sweetest, most chilled-out little dog ever and he was eternally grateful that he’d sniffed him out that day under the tree.

He’d been living at Hammer-Towers for a couple of months now and the Saturday morning coffee-run had quickly become part of his routine. It was usually the only day of the week that he wasn’t awoken by large hands lightly stroking him under the bed covers, or a tongue licking his nipple – or sometimes, if he was lucky, wet lips sucking him anywhere and everywhere. And he didn’t mind one bit! Waking up with Armie’s mouth on his cock was better than any alarm clock.

Because of time-zone differences, Armie would work late on a Friday, joining the end-of-week Zoom meeting with his colleagues in the LA office, which meant he slept until around 10am the next day. So on a Saturday, Tim would carefully slide out from under his beautiful giant’s sleep-heavy limbs and creep out of the top-floor master bedroom as quietly as he could. Then he’d quickly get dressed, grab his phone and a face mask and head out with Archie to explore the city for a couple of hours.

York was slowly getting back to a ‘new normal’ after the lockdown and Timmy had discovered a lovely little dog-friendly café where he could enjoy a bacon butty and the local newspaper, before heading off for a mooch around the Shambles Market. He loved to wander through the vibrant, eclectic stalls selling anything from fresh fruit and flowers to goth clothes and movie posters, and then call at the artisan bakery that made Armie’s favourite olive bread.

But today he was keen to get back and kick-start their weekend nice and early - he’d left a surprise for Armie hanging on the back of the bathroom door. It was a flimsy little dark-pink corset with long silk straps that laced up the back. Timmy had pinned a note to it saying, **_‘It is not a garment I cast off this day, but a skin that I tear with my own hands – later’_**

He just knew it would drive Armie wild – and that the lacy number would be lucky to survive the night! With or without kinky undies and evocative poetry, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

So he settled for a quick walk along the riverbank, round past the beautiful Crown Court building and back down Coney Street to the nearest Starbucks. It had become a little joke of his to get ridiculous names written on their cups, and today he’d gone for Sonny and Cher – only the twelve-year-old barista had written ‘Sunny’ and ‘Shane’ instead. It would make Armie laugh, and he liked to make him laugh.

“Come on Archie, let’s go wake Daddy up.” He dumped the dog-poo bag in the nearest bin and headed back.

By the time he got home, condensation had seeped into the cardboard cup-holder and the precariously balanced drinks wobbled perilously as he struggled to get his key out of his pocket. He just about managed to get it in the lock when the door was yanked open by an angry looking Armie.

“What the fuck are you doing here? Don’t you ever read your messages?” he hissed.

Timmy was taken aback. What the hell was his problem? And why was he whispering? “I felt it buzz but, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, I’ve got my chuffing hands full here! With _your_ dog. And your precious newspaper. Why, what’s up?”

“Shhh! Keep your voice down!”

“Sorry, but…what’s going on Armie? Is everything ok?” said Timmy, in a quieter voice, a pang of anxiety suddenly stabbing in his gut. Had something bad happened? Two huge suitcases stood at the bottom of the stairs. His mouth went dry. Oh fuck! Was he being kicked out? Why, why, _why_? He racked his brains – what had he done wrong?

Armie ushered him into the hallway, closed the door and pulled him into his arms. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. Sorry.” He kissed the top of Tim’s head. “It’s just that…you’re not gonna believe this, but my mother is here!”

Timmy reached out to put the cups down on the console table, let go of Archie’s lead and hugged Armie back tightly, burying his face into his chest. “Oh man, I’m so happy for you! You see? I told you she couldn’t stay angry at you forever. I’ve been so looking forward to meeting your family and…”

Armie stepped away. “Oh, this is awkward. The thing is…” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “I’ve not told her. About us I mean. And I…”

Archie scratched at the closed kitchen door and started growling deep and low in his throat. When a high-pitched voice called out, “Armand, who’s there?” he let out a sharp _yap_ and scarpered upstairs to his bedroom, dragging the leash behind him.

Timmy reached into his pocket so he could see just what the hell that message said - Armie was acting like a complete weirdo! But before he could, Armie grabbed his wrist. “No! Don’t read it.” He took a huge deep breath, “Look…just go along with me Tim, ok? Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

Timmy frowned and picked up the coffees - he’d never seen _this_ Armie before. Get _what_ over with? His heart was beating fast. “Yeah ok, I guess…” he mumbled, and followed him into the kitchen.

A small, thin, blond haired woman was perched on a stool at the island. “Mom, this is Timmy. My…er…personal assistant.”

Timmy’s head spun around like The Exorcist and he glared at a sheepish looking Armie. _Personal assistant!?!_ You have got to be fucking kidding!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have had brain-fog for weeks - then five chapters popped out of nowhere! 
> 
> I hope you are all doing well (what a frigging year!) and that you are liking this next instalment 
> 
> And if you do like it, I would LOVE for you to let me know - a little K & C would really brighten my day ☀️ 
> 
> stay safe and sane lovely readers 🤍


	2. Hang On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two months earlier...

****

**  
Two Months Earlier:**

Moving-in day had been eventful to say the least. True to his word, after sort-of convincing Timmy that living together was a good idea, Armie had immediately left the bedsit to fetch his car from the parking garage…

…leaving Timmy to wonder what the fuck he’d just agreed to! He stood by the window watching Armie run down the cobbled street. Was he doing the right thing? Who in their right mind moves in on the spur of the moment with an older man they barely know? A sexy-as-fuck rich older man with a massive swanky crib, granted, but still…they’d met less than a fortnight ago!

Armie _seemed_ normal enough – but what if his Mom was right and he was a secret serial killer? Or some other type of psychopath? What if he had peculiar habits? Or was a perv who just wanted to use him as a sex slave? Ummm...on second thoughts, Timmy reckoned he could happily get used to that, no problemo - he was fucking gorgeous!

But in all honesty, what was the alternative? The letting agencies were closed due to the lockdown. He couldn’t go home yet. He didn’t know anyone else in Yorkshire. And he couldn’t stay here – because his room no longer had a ceiling! Well technically it did, but it was currently in pieces all over his floor and bed.

The strange neighbours had come down from the sex-dungeon (Timmy refused to believe anything less) to see what all the commotion was. As he waited in the ruins of his little room for his blue-eyed knight in shining armour to rescue him, he couldn’t help feel a little sad that he hadn’t got to know them better over the last few weeks, because they actually turned out to be lovely.

They’d helped him sweep the floor and shake the dust off his clothes and pack everything into two large plastic containers they found in the basement. Timmy was really grateful, and to say thank-you, he gave them his food, his microwave and his mini-fridge – he hardly thought he’d be needing them at the millionaire mansion somehow. Eek! Could he really do this?

Armie came bounding up the stairs just as they were done packing. “All set? Is this everything?”

Timmy was embarrassed. He scratched the back of his head. “Yep, this is it. Its mainly clothes. And shoes, there in the bin bag.” He thought about that huge house filled with antique furniture and state-of-the-art gadgets. And the amazing library. And the racks and racks of wine bottles. Five floors full of beautiful things. “But I have lots of stuff at home, back in New York. Loads of stuff. Books and…”

Armie laughed and pulled him in to a hug. “Stop stressing. It’s fine. I’m not judging you. I just meant, are you all set to go? Come on, let’s get out of here before we get a respiratory disease.”

They barely spoke on the short drive across town to Armie’s house. Timmy sat looking out of the side window with his backpack on his knee, biting his nails. He was replaying the whirlwind of the past few days in his mind – could he trust this man? After lying about who he was? Could he?

When they stopped at a traffic light, Armie gently took his hand, pulled it away from his nibbling teeth and kissed his wrist. “Don’t fret Tim. Everything’s gonna be alright. No pressure or expectations. You’ll have your own bedroom and bathroom, if that’s what you’re worried about. Whatever you want.”

Tim wasn’t sure _what_ he wanted. But he couldn’t help being a bit fazed to realise that Armie was possibly seeing this as a house-sharing-friendzone arrangement and not a bed-sharing-boyfzone arrangement. And he didn’t know if this made him feel better or worse! It was so confusing. He yanked his hand away and carried on biting his nails.

Armie mounted the pavement outside his house with the black Range Rover and left the hazard warning lights blinking while they quickly offloaded the boxes and bags and dumped them in the hallway at the foot of the wide, curved staircase. “Wait here while I take the car back to the garage before the Gestapo traffic warden has my guts for garters,” he said. “I won’t be long. It’s just around the corner.”

Timmy didn’t dare go wandering around without permission - for all he knew, Armie could have fucking CCTV watching him right now! So he sat on the bottom step and waited. Archie padded down the stairs behind him, wagging his little tail enthusiastically. “You started all this, you little shit, remember? So I’m blaming you if it all goes tits-up.” Tim held him on his lap and tickled his soft ears - and scoured the ceiling for covert cameras.

  
Armie came through the door five minutes later - and burst out laughing. “Timmy, when I said wait here, I didn’t literally mean _wait here_.” He held out his hand and pulled Tim up from the floor. “Ok Chalamet, what’s wrong? Come on, spit it out.”

In the short time Armie had been gone, Tim had managed to convince himself this was a terrible idea and that they were making a huge mistake, and that he should take his stuff and leave. “I think…I’m just gonna go. We hardly know each other. And you’re waaaay out of my league. And I’m really fucking messy. I’m loud and I sing a lot. I can’t cook and I don’t know how to stack a dishwasher and…and I like, leave pistachio shells around the house and…stop laughing at me you big cock-womble! I’m serious! Are you absolutely sure about this?”

“I’m not laughing at you, I promise,” said Armie, clearly trying to supress a giggle. “Cock-womble? You’re so damn adorable, you have no idea. But, good god, will you just relax!” He stepped forward, more serious now, and held Tim’s face in both hands and kissed him softly on the mouth. “Am I sure this’ll work out? No. But am I sure that I want to give it a go? To coin your phrase, Abso-fucking-lutely.”

In that moment, gazing up into Armie’s beautiful blue eyes, with butterflies in his stomach and a tingling in his balls, Timmy thought he would just about agree to anything! And he could always learn how to stack a dishwasher…

He leaned in closer and grabbed Armie’s firm arse cheeks with both hands – and squeezed. “If you guarantee I get to do this every day,” he said breathlessly, sliding his hands up and under Armie’s T-shirt and pressing his fingers into the firm muscles of his back, “…then I’ll consider staying.”

Armie grinned. “Deal!” he said – then, without warning, quickly bent down and picked him up, bridal fashion and carried him across the hallway.

Timmy was surprised to find he was instantly and _massively_ turned on by being picked up – who knew! “I hate to break it to you Hammer, but I’m hardly a virgin bride,” he laughed. Were they going up to the bedroom already? Okey dokey… bit sudden but he wasn’t complaining. He clung onto Armie’s neck and tried to remember where the hastily packed slide ‘n’ glide was.

But just when he thought he might finally be getting a bit of cock-action, Armie back-kicked the kitchen door and unceremoniously plonked him down on the island next to a ceramic chicken. “What am I thinking Tim?” he declared, throwing his hands up. “This calls for a celebration! I have a couple of bottles of Dom Perignon 2002 in the wine cellar that I’ve been saving for a special occasion.”

Tim rolled his eyes in frustration, hopped down onto the floor and adjusted the uncomfortable bulge in his pants. “Of course you have,” he muttered as Armie dashed off down to the basement. He wouldn’t know a posh bottle of plonk from a five-quid Bargain Booze Spumante if his life depended on it – but getting shit-faced right now sounded like a solid plan.


	3. Laughter Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timmy has a decision to make. Armie is happy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all the pics so far are mine and the titles are Shed Seven songs

  
“Here’s to a drama-free lockdown together! Cheers!” Armie clinked his glass with Timmy’s and necked the champagne down in a oner. They’d taken both bottles out into the garden in a large, silver ice bucket and were sat side-by-side in the wooden rocking chairs, watching Archie destroy a ridiculous rubber pigeon chew-toy on the lawn – no wonder he lunged at the poor things in the square!

Armie couldn’t believe he was doing this. He was quite possibly the least spontaneous person he knew but this felt _so_ right. Plus it didn’t hurt that Timmy was stunningly beautiful and funny and sweet and that he was ever-so-slightly head-over-heels in love with him. And he didn’t want to think about him going back to the US. And he was _definitely_ looking forward to getting to know him better, despite his overwhelming anxiety about actually ‘doing the deed’. It had been a while…

…hence why he’d put the brakes on – again! He’d noticed Timmy’s not-so-subtle eye-rolling back in the kitchen, of course he had. And part of him could have happily carried him up to the nearest bedroom and fucked him there and then and bugger the consequences. But what if he made a total pig’s ear of it? He wasn’t quite sure what the Gen-Zer’s were even into nowadays and a quick Google for research purposes might be in order.

It wasn’t as though he was a total novice - but Timmy seemed so confident, so _forward_. And talented! That blowjob had been phenomenal despite the dubious surroundings of the church-hall store cupboard and he’d never be able to look at a tin of Heinz beans again without having a flashback of Timmy’s mouth round his cock! He knocked back another glass of the Dom Perignon for Dutch courage because he had the distinct feeling that tonight could be eventful. It was never a dull moment with Le Chalamet.

Timmy leaned forward and topped up their glasses. “I can’t guarantee the no-drama bit. Shit just seems to follow me around.” He poured it too quickly and the champagne fizzed up and spilled all over the table and dripped onto the patio. Armie didn’t have the heart to tell him he’d just wasted about a hundred pounds worth of booze.

Timmy held his drink aloft and declared, “Here’s to you not getting sick of me! Because I’ll be fucking homeless if you do.”

Armie put his glass down and patted his knee. “Come here Tim.” Timmy straddled him and Armie held his waist tightly with both hands as they laughed and waited for the rocking chair to steady itself. He was so tiny – and _holy fuck_ , what a turn-on that was! But he tried very hard not to get distracted because he needed Timmy to pay attention. “I know you’re still pissed off at me. I get that. And I know I’ve got some explaining to do. But I have really good vibes about this, don’t you?”

Tim nodded his head, making his lovely dark curls bounce around his face. “About us you mean? Yeah, yeah I do. I mean look at you! Look at this house! Boy, did I get fucking lucky!” He rubbed his hands up and down the tops of Armie’s thick arms and leaned down to kiss him. “Seriously man, I know I keep saying it but I’m so grateful. For everything. I have _lots_ of questions though. And you’re right, I am still wazzed off with you. But how about we just get rat-arsed today and figure it all out tomorrow?”

“Excellent idea.” said Armie. “And for the record, I’m the lucky one. You’re amazing Timothée Chalamet,” he said, feeling genuinely happy for the first time in a _long_ time. After three shitty years of crippling loneliness and complicated legal wranglings, it was as if the universe had intervened to bring that ceiling crashing down – he hadn’t slammed the door that hard, had he?

“Shall we take your stuff upstairs before we get _too_ rat-arsed?”

“Yes please.” said Timmy and he climbed off Armie’s lap and they headed indoors.

Armie had given very little thought to their actual sleeping arrangements – there hadn’t been time! But he figured Timmy would at least want his own bathroom until they got to know each other better, so he headed up to the third floor carrying the bigger of the two packing boxes and the bin-bag full of shoes. Tim trailed behind, struggling with the smaller box and his backpack.

“This is the nicest of the two guest bedrooms,” Armie said, entering a door to the right of the stairs. “It’s got a great view of the statue and there’s a walk-in wardrobe for all your designer clobber. You’ve got your own bathroom right here, and this is your laundry hamper. My housekeeper comes every Monday and Thursday so just put anything you want washing in there and Tracey will take care of it.”

“Housekeeper? You’re a flash bastard Hammer,” said Tim as he wandered over to look out of the open window. Armie could sense something was wrong, judging by the fidgety head-scratching and lip biting. He was quickly realising that Timmy was like an open book – but just one that was written in a complicated foreign language - Klingon perhaps.

“Do you not like the room? I know it’s a bit dull but once you get your stuff in here it will look more homely. And you can put your Kid Cudi poster up. Or you could have the bedroom next door. It’s slightly smaller but…”

Timmy shook his head and turned around to face him. “No, the room’s great. More than great. It’s just that…Armie, do you want me to, you know, pay rent? Like a lodger? I have money now, remember? So I can pay you. We haven’t discussed it and…and I don’t want you to think I’m like that Robert bloke and just after your dosh.”

Armie scrubbed his palm over his face in exasperation. “Oh for fuck’s sake…here, sit for a second.” He sat on the bed and took hold of Tim’s hands and pulled him down next to him. “Of course I don’t think you’re like that lying bastard. And I’ve not asked you here to be my lodger. Surely you realise that? So no, I don’t want any money from you. I don’t want anything _from_ you. Just you.”

“And you’re not like… a weirdo or a pervert or anything?” Timmy asked, absolutely poker-faced, looking him straight in the eye.

Armie had no idea whether he was joking or not so he thought carefully about what to say next. “Look, its obvious that we have a connection. I feel it. You feel it. The worlds gone to shit on a shovel. You’re in a tight spot, and I have the means to be able to help you. There’s no hidden agenda believe me. So for the love of god, can you please stop overanalysing and just chill the fuck out. And pick a damn room, before I make you bunk-up with Archie.”

Tim closed his eyes and ran a hand down the front of his neck. “I think you’ll find that I overanalyse _everything_. I’m a frigging nightmare.”

Armie thought that long, pale throat with its prominent Adam’s apple was quickly becoming his most favourite view and he shuffled closer and slid his hand under the delicate silver necklace. He gently pulled it, tilting Timmy’s head to one side and started kissing the little freckles one by one.

“Look, if you want to sleep in here…” _kiss_ “…you can.” _kiss_ “Or if you prefer the other room…” _kiss_ “…that’s fine too.” _kiss_. “But if you’d like to sleep upstairs with me…” _kiss_ “…I’m sure we could make that work.”

Timmy smiled and, without opening his eyes, said, “Can I see your room first before I decide?”

Armie threw himself back on the bed and laughed. “Really? Your decision comes down to the fucking décor? Okay, follow me,” and he headed off up the final staircase, up to the only room that Timmy hadn’t yet seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three chapters in a day! I hope you are enjoying your little virtual trip back to York and the little lockdown bubble I've created for Armie and Timmy
> 
> much love 🤍


	4. People Will Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timmy shows off. Armie starts to realise what he's let himself in for. Things start to get steamy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first picture is Micklegate Bar where the heads of traitors and rebels were displayed 
> 
> The second picture is the view from my office 🙂

This chapter follows on from the short Epilogue from Chasing Rainbows - read it [**here** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24357658/chapters/64974784)if you need a quick recap

Armie looked down from the top-floor landing and watched Timmy as he paused to scrutinise the framed photographs lining the walls of the narrow staircase. He saw him twist and turn his head this way and that, clearly trying to fathom out what he was looking at.

 _Oh shit!_ \- after the ‘weirdo or pervert’ comment, Armie felt it might be a tad too soon to reveal this particular penchant of his. Not that he’d had much actual experience outside of watching videos and practising on his mannequin - the chance would be a fine thing!

But since he’d first clapped eyes on Tim, it had been on his mind - a lot! He had a length of exquisite red silk rope that would contrast beautifully with his pale, smooth skin…the marks it would make on his slender limbs, intricately bound into impossible positions…

Armie felt himself getting hard just thinking about it and hoped Timmy would be up for letting him hone his skills – once they got to know each other better, obviously. Although he did get the distinct impression that Tim was an any-which-way type of guy, but still, he didn’t want to risk scaring him off. And those specially commissioned photographs were extremely explicit once the image came into focus. No, too soon…

He called down from the top of the stairs, “Come on, quick. I’ve got something amazing to show you.” Timmy muttered something under his breath that Armie couldn’t quite catch and took the remaining steps two at a time to join him at the top of the house.

They stood together in the doorway of the master suite that took up the whole of the top floor. It had dark polished oak floors and pale grey walls and all six windows had panoramic views of the city and countryside beyond. To the left of the entrance were two mirrored doors – one that opened up into an ultra-modern bathroom with a huge walk-in shower and the other into a wood panelled dressing room.

A deep, freestanding copper bathtub was positioned at the foot of a super-king-sized bed which was perfectly made up with crisp, snow-white sheets. In one corner there was a large L-shaped brown soft-leather sofa, and opposite, a matching gaming chair. A huge TV screen dominated one wall and underneath it was a low wooden sideboard containing an array of different game consoles and controllers along with the latest VR headset.

“Chuff me!” said Tim, clapping his hands to his thighs. “Now _this_ …is a bedroom!” And with that, he ran and launched himself into the air and landed smack bang in the middle of the pristine bed. “Woo hoo!”

Armie laughed and shook his head for about the tenth time already that day - _bang goes the quiet life_ – and went to join him on the bed.

Timmy was slightly disappointed to realise that _‘come and check out my telescope’_ was not in fact an invitation for him to get his hands on that massive cock again. And that the _‘something amazing’_ was actually a high-end star-gazing gadget that Armie was excited to show off. Bummer!

“Isn’t it magnificent?” said Armie, clearly enamoured with his new toy which was positioned on a tall tripod in front of one of the back-facing windows in the bedroom. “If we’re lucky, when it gets dark, I’ll show you Saturn’s rings.”

“Can’t wait,” said Timmy in his best deadpan voice. He was mildly interested in astronomy but was _very_ interested in ‘geeky Armie’ who was a weirdly sexy combination of nerd and sex-god when he was banging on about his hobbies. Tim’s mouth twisted into a cheeky smile. “What about Uranus? Will I be lucky enough to see that tonight?”

“You taking the piss out of me by any chance? So I’m a geek with too much time and money on my hands, ok? Deal with it.”

Geek or not, they’d had a delightful snog on the big bed and there was nothing nerdy about how Armie had crawled on top of him and pushed him down into the mattress - oh the lovely weight of him! It was apparent to Timmy that when Armie got his horn on, he _definitely_ liked to be the one in control - if the arm pinning and leg spreading were anything to go by. Phew!

In the car earlier he had the ridiculous notion that he was going to make Armie wait for sex as payback – a case of blue balls might remind him not to billy-bullshit him again. But the second Armie’s tongue slid into his mouth, all that went right out the window. He was irresistible!

But more than the physical attraction, Timmy felt cared for. Cared _about_. It was alien to him after a few years of casual, meaningless hook-ups and despite Armie’s self-confessed inexperience, he knew he would be in safe hands when they eventually got around to making love.

 _Making love_ … it had been a while since he thought of it as ‘making love’ and not ‘fucking’ or ‘shagging’.

“Talking of piss, can I please use your bathroom?” said Tim, who realised he needed to go, desperately.

“Of course. And you don’t have to ask. You live here now.”

Timmy perused the room while he peed. The shower controls looked really fucking complicated, like the cockpit of an aeroplane - he’d need a degree to fathom out how to work that contraption. And pure white towels could be a problem due to his propensity to be slightly minging. And what about the size of that bed out there? And he swore he’d seen smaller screens at the Everyman Cinema down the road. Oh god, was this all for real? Or was he having some sort of freaky trip?

“What’s that?” he asked as he came out of the bathroom, drying his hands on his T-shirt and pointing to what he thought looked like a tailor’s dummy type thing in one corner of the room.

Armie did his back-of-neck-nervous-rub thing – _interesting_. “Oh er, it’s just another er…hobby of mine. I’ll show you some other time. Let’s go back downstairs. There’s a two-hundred-pound bottle of champagne going flat and warm outside.”

“Two hundred fucking pounds? Who even _are_ you?” said Tim, following him down the stairs. He started to get that panicky feeling again and focussed on working out what the torso-dummy thing was to settle his nerves – did Armie do dressmaking in his spare time, or what?

Back out in the garden Armie brought out a fancy looking loaf and three different types of cheese on a large wooden board. “I’d planned on making seared scallops and black pudding before you went all Defcon 1 on me. This’ll have to do for now. I hope its ok.”

“Do I need to remind you that I’ve been surviving on Pot Noodles until fairly recently,” said Tim, smiling up at him. He hadn’t eaten all day and woofed down great chunks of olive sourdough bread and Wensleydale smothered in Yorkshire Real Ale plum chutney with a side order of sweet red grapes. Oh this really was how the other half lived! And even though he didn’t particularly care for the posh plonk, he decided that he was just going to enjoy the high life while it lasted and stop freaking out like a lunatic all the time.

“Ah, I’ve just remembered,” said Armie. “I’ve asked my PA to lodge a formal complaint against your landlord about the condition of the building. I’m hoping you’ll get all your rent back. Or at least some of it.”

Well _that_ just popped Timmy’s short lived happy-bubble. He stared at Armie. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to. Rogue landlords are a bugbear of mine. I didn’t like to say anything before, but that house was dangerous and disgusting. Nobody should have to live like that.”

Timmy was mortally embarrassed and busied himself wiping a big chunk of chutney off his T-shirt with a napkin, mainly to avoid looking at Armie. “It was all I could afford. I…well, you know the story.”

He immediately regretted saying it – it wasn’t Armie’s fault that he’d overspent like a prize knob head. Late evening sun cast a warm, golden glow over the patio but he suddenly felt very cold. He shivered and tucked his knees up to his chin and hugged them to his body.

Armie leaned over and rubbed his shoulder. “I’m sorry. Forget I said it. You’re safe now, that’s all that matters.” There was an awkward silence, then, “If you’re chilly we could relocate to the hot-tub? It’s all good to go.”

Timmy jumped up, _“Yes!”_ and did a fist pump. “I thought you’d never ask. I fucking _love_ a hot-tub! Oh but…I don’t think I have a swimsuit. I could wear shorts, I guess. I’ll just go find them. Wait there.”

“Why bother?” Armie called out casually over his shoulder.

Timmy stopped in his tracks and spun around. “What?”

“I don’t usually bother. In the pool or out here. That part of the garden over there is completely private.” Armie had a grin on his face and nodded at Timmy’s groin area as he poured himself another glass of bubbly. “I mean, you’ve seen mine. It’s only fair I see yours. Unless you’ve got something to hide Timotay?”

“I can assure you Armand Douglas Sundog Hornpot Hammer that I have _nothing_ to hide,” and he quickly yanked open his jeans and let them drop straight to the floor.

He went commando as a rule - more out of sheer bone idleness than anything else, one less thing to faff about with he reasoned – so his cock immediately sprung out and hung down between his thighs. Yes, he was skinny and he’d given up on ever having decent biceps years ago, but he’d never had to worry about his attributes in the trouser department, no siree!

“Behold the Chala-mala-ding-dong!” he declared theatrically and put his hands on his hips and twirled his long cock around like a helicopter.

Armie spat his drink out. “Fucking hell Tim, you’re not kidding! But just so you know, this part of the garden here …” he gestured with his glass, “… _isn’t_ private and I think you’ve just put on quite a show for the neighbours next door.”

 _“All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players,”_ said Timmy, stepping in between Armie’s parted knees and draping his arms around his neck. “You can’t say you haven’t been warned. I told you I was a nightmare.”

Armie put his glass on the table and ran his hands down Timmy’s sides, stroking his nipples with his thumbs and caressing the arch of his back before resting on the curves of his buttocks. “You’re not a nightmare Tim, you’re a fucking dream come true.”

Timmy figured Armie wasn’t so worried about the neighbours after all. He bent down and whispered in his ear, “And for the record, I’m a grower _and_ a show-er.”

Armie moaned out loud. “Let’s get out of the view of prying eyes,” he said, his voice deep and low with arousal, and he walked over and flipped open the lid of the bubbling, steaming hot-tub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the love you've been giving to my little story. I cant tell you how happy I am to see those little ♥️‘s and read your comments.
> 
> It ain't Shakespeare I know but I hope it makes you all smile in these 'challenging' times
> 
> stay safe & sane lovely peeps🤍


	5. Love Equals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 🤍Timmy's had a long day  
> 🤍Armie finally gets his hands on the Chala-mala-ding-dong  
> 🤍Archie's not arsed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pic one is the Kings Manor
> 
> Pic two is the wonderful York Minster again
> 
> Pic three is Lendal Bridge
> 
> all mine 😊

  
Timmy sat on the edge of the hot tub and dangled his feet in the warm water while he finished the rest of his champagne – he was exhausted and couldn’t trust himself not to fuck up and smash a fancy champagne flute in the pool or something.

What a day! God only knows what his mother would say when he told her where he was. That ordeal could wait until the morning…

…because right now, he was thinking of how to make his hard dick go away, apart from the obvious. Or at least hide it – it was embarrassing! Being starkers didn’t faze him in the slightest, but did he have _no_ self-control around this man?! He carefully put his glass on the wooden decking, slid into the hot tub and fiddled around with the control panel at the side to try and turn on the jets before Armie came back out. But all he managed to do was put on some sort of seizure-inducing strobe lighting effect instead. Why were gadgets so complicated?

“You trying to break my hot tub?” said Armie, ducking under the vines trailing from the roof of the wooden gazebo. He was wearing a loosely belted white bath robe and had an arm full of towels and two bottles of water. He leaned over, pressed a couple of buttons and, _hey presto_ \- gentle bubbles started up again and soft pink, ambient light flooded the pool. And his robe fell open!

Tim’s eyes went wide at the sight of a full-frontal naked Armie in all his fabulous six-foot five glory but he tried to act casual – well, as casual as humanly possible with a big raging stiffy poking out of the water. The bubbles did very little to hide it and he thought those jets might need cranking up a notch or three.

He laid back in the water with his legs outstretched – the hot tub was huge! Like big enough for twelve people. It seemed that everything this guy had was huge - apart from his dog. Little Archie was currently laid on the patio in his usual prone position paying them absolutely zero attention. Alpha male types normally had menacing looking things, didn’t they? Like Alsatians or Rottweilers or something? Timmy had been meaning to ask him about it and now seemed like a good time - and it might take his mind off his lob-on.

“How come you’ve got a dog? Did he come with you when you moved here?”

Armie shrugged off his robe and climbed in opposite Timmy. He lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply and offered it to him. “Yeah, I guess she wanted kids and I wasn’t ready, so we compromised and got a dog. My ex I mean. She never really warmed to him and vice versa. In fact custody of Archie was one of the few things we _didn’t_ fight over in the split.”

Timmy reached over, took a drag of the cig and passed it back to Armie. “There’s plenty of time for kids, I guess. If you want them that is. You’re only, what? Late thirties?”

“Cheeky sod! I’m thirty-three, nearly thirty-four. I thought you’d’ve worked that out from the other day, when I told you all about my ill-fated stint at being straight and married.”

“Oops!” said Tim. “Statistics was never my strong subject. And I’d had a bucketful of booze, remember?” He frantically backpedalled. “You don’t look old honestly, you don’t. You look great. It’s just that you have all this,” he gestured up at the house, “…and a really important job…I think. What exactly is it that you do?”

Armie laughed. “My job’s totally fucking boring compared to yours but I’m happy to talk about it, if you really want.” He took a long drag of his cigarette and said, “I’m down to four a day,” then stubbed it out in the ashtray and stared at Tim. “We don’t know that much about each other, do we?”

Timmy pushed off his side of the tub and drifted over to Armie. “I know one thing old man…” he said, bracketing Armie’s knees with his thighs. “…that I can’t wait to get my hands and mouth down here again,” and he reached under the water and cupped his fingers underneath Armie’s full balls. “And in all honesty, anything important you tell me right now will go in one ear and out the other, so shall we add your job to the ‘things to discuss tomorrow’ list and just fool around tonight? It’s been a hell of a day.”

“It has been quite a day,” said Armie, spreading his legs and pulling Timmy on top of him so that their cocks touched under the water. “This morning I was thinking it’d be nice to date you. You know, take it slow. Wine and dine you once lockdown is over. And now…”

“And now, you’ve got me…” said Tim and he thrust his groin forward and rubbed their erections together. “…whenever and wherever you want me. I promise you.” He was delighted to feel that Armie was as hard as he was. “I’m sure you’ve sussed out that I’m not really a take-it-slow type of bloke.” And he bent down and gently sucked on the side of Armie’s neck just under his jaw.

Armie gripped his waist with both hands, spun him around in the water and pushed him hard against the edge of the hot-tub. “Fuck…” he groaned. “Tim, you’re just…fuck!”

Timmy held the tops of Armie’s thick thighs, rested his chin on his shoulder and whispered in his ear, “I need you to make me come now Armie, if that’s alright with you.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” said Armie, and he slid a hand down in between their bodies and squeezed both of their hard cocks together and began to slowly pump his fist up and down. Timmy sucked in a breath, stretched out his arms and leaned back on the rim of the tub and let Armie take charge - Jesus, his hands were so big!

He angled his head to try and watch the underwater action – it was hot as hell! Armie swiped his thumb over the heads on every upward stroke and pushed right down into their balls at the bottom – then back up again with firm, smooth strokes that sent Timmy into orbit. He wouldn’t be needing that chuffing telescope – he was seeing stars already!

Armie kissed him rough and hard as he pushed his other hand in between his arse cheeks and rubbed him with his middle finger. The strokes got faster. They panted into each other’s open mouths. Timmy felt his balls tighten. His orgasm was close. “Armie, I’m gonna come! Am I alright to spunk in here? Is that what the chlorine dispenser thingamajig is for?” he gasped.

To his utter frustration, Armie instantly let go and stood up and laughed. “You really know how to kill a moment don’t you.” Then he reached over and pressed the button that ramped up the jets. “It’s not specifically for spunk elimination purposes, but if you’re _that_ concerned…” and he tucked his hands under Tim’s thighs and effortlessly hoisted him out of the water and onto the side of the pool - and sank his mouth down over his long, hard cock.

“Fuuuck!” Tim cried out, not giving a toss whether the neighbours could hear or not, although he did have a fleeting concern about what Archie might think. It was very fleeting…and he wasn’t going to last that long if Armie kept up that pace on his bell-end. The bloke might have had a three-year dry spell but _shit-a-brick,_ he sure knew his way around a knob!

He held Armie’s head and watched his tongue lick at the sensitive tip before sucking him down, with one hand around the shaft and the other pressed hard into the arch of Timmy’s back to pull him deeper into his mouth.

Armie moaned on Tim’s cock and rocked his own hips backwards and forwards in rhythm with his hand and mouth action, making waves lap over the sides of the tub. Tim was mesmerised by his perfectly rounded buttocks squeezing and releasing under the bubbles, and the droplets of water glistening on the rippling muscles of his broad back - and that’s what he was staring at when the cum exploded out of him. “Armie, Armie! Oh fuck. Oh, oh!”

Without much conscious thought, he pushed his groin up and rode out his orgasm as Armie went still and swallowed. It occurred to him five seconds later that he’d completely forgotten the usual blow-job etiquette of actually _asking_ before he came in someone’s mouth – but he’d been so lost in the moment!

“Sorry Armie, sorry.” He struggled to catch his breath. “I didn’t ask. Was it ok for me to…”

Armie sucked off the end of his cock with a pop and smiled and nodded. He took a handful of water and splashed it over his mouth. “I thought I’d best return the favour,” he said, and tugged at Timmy’s ankles so he slid back into the water.

Timmy was as limp as an overcooked noodle so it was a good job he was instantly pulled into a tight bear hug or he’d have gone under. “Your turn now,” he said, his voice muffled against the soft hairs on Armie’s chest. He could feel his heart beating.

Armie let go of him and leaned back against the opposite edge of the tub. “I’ve er…too late.”

“Whaaat? You came just from sucking me off?” Timmy stared into Armie’s face – and regardless of the heat of the water, he swore he could detect a blush creeping up his cheeks – and he thought it was the most adorable thing ever. “Wow! Lit!”

Armie shrugged. “The bubbles helped.”

“Fuck!” said Tim, pushing his damp hair back from his forehead. “That is horny as hell!” He tapped his temple with his forefinger. “That’s _definitely_ going in the wank bank.”

Armie had a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. Is this what love felt like? Or was he just in a sex fog? Either way, he wanted to touch Timmy, to be close to him. He held out his arms for Tim to lay on top of him with his back to his chest and pulled him close, wrapping an arm around his middle. He guided his head to rest on his shoulder and kissed him near his ear. “You do realise we’re now technically marinating in my jizz?”

“Do I look like I care,” said Tim, and he turned and kissed the top of Armie’s arm.

The bubbles automatically switched off and they laid in a content silence, enjoying the peace of the garden as the sun set behind the ancient city walls. Armie traced little swirls on Timmy’s smooth, flat stomach with his fingertips as the pink pool lights danced patterns on him. He recalled how months ago he’d fantasised about touching him there – and now, here they were.

“Hmmm, that’s nice.” Timmy’s voice was slurred and sleepy. “Armie, are you glad I came?”

Armie took a deep breath. “Am I glad…? Tim…I think I…”

_Oh Christ alive, stop you idiot…_

“…I think we should get out of here before we fall asleep and drown.”

He helped a sleepy Timmy out of the pool and draped the heavy towelling robe over his shoulders. “You’re shivering. Why don’t you go take a shower while I walk Archie? Go on, I won’t be long. You’ll find everything you need in there already so don’t worry about unpacking tonight. You can remember where your bathroom is, right?”

Timmy yawned and nodded and trudged off into the house, drowned by the three-sizes-too-big robe – Armie made a mental note to buy a couple of smaller ones. He turned off the hot tub, chucked in a large scoop full of chemicals for good measure and closed the lid. Tracey would see to it later in the week. “Archie! Walkies!”

Armie walked over Lendal bridge with its white Yorkshire roses and red lions and watched the last of the light leave the sky. It was a good job the streets were virtually empty because he suspected he might look slightly bonkers smiling to himself every so often as he did a mental re-run of the day’s events. What was that old song his beloved Grandma used to sing? _What a difference a day makes, twenty four little hours…_

He was only gone thirty minutes but when he got back, the house was eerily silent. “Tim?” he called out, unclipping Archie’s leash. He went to the cloakroom and washed his hands and tried not to worry – had he got cold feet and done a runner? Oh god, had something scared him off?

He turned on the lamp in the hallway and made his way upstairs. “Timmy? You ok?” he called again. The library was dark and empty so he went to the next floor, to the bedroom where they’d dumped the boxes.

And there he was, laid face down in the middle of the bed, lightly snoring and wearing nothing but a damp bath towel around his waist. Armie carefully slid it out from under him and put it in the laundry basket, closed the shutters and switched off the bathroom light.

As he leant over to tuck the duvet around him, he could smell his own favourite lemon and verbena shampoo in Timmy’s still-damp hair - and for some reason he felt suddenly overwhelmed. Tears prickled behind his eyes. What the hell? Was he going soft in his old age or what?

Maybe so...he nearly told him he loved him in the garden earlier!

Armie brought his first two fingers to his lips, kissed them and touched them lightly to Tim’s cheek. “Sweet dreams lovely man,” he whispered in the dark - and went back downstairs for a nightcap.

It had been one hell of a day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! I hope you enjoyed reading that as much as I enjoyed writing it - a lot of 'research' went into this chapter 😉
> 
> Thank you sooooo much for your lovely comments and kudos - and just for reading it! 💜
> 
> There might be a bit of a while to wait for the next few chapter but I thought this was a nice place for an interval.
> 
> Happy Christmas wherever you are and whatever you celebrate - its a bit of a weird one I know but these things too will pass. Stay safe and sane 
> 
> Peace & Love and I'll 'see’ you all in the new year🤍


	6. Head & Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timmy has an accident 🩸 Armie picks up the pieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The picture is a bronze statue of Shakespeare from the year 1740 currently on display in the York Art Gallery - I like to do a little nod to the Bard in each chapter so I thought this was very fitting. Enjoy!

  
Timmy awoke with a start and sat bolt upright in the big bed. He was having a horrible dream about a giant lizard and suspected he might have shouted something barmy out loud, but he couldn’t be sure. His heart raced with that awful middle-of-the-night _where-the-fuck-am-I_ terror and, for a split second, he didn’t have the foggiest clue what room, or even what _house_ he was in. All he knew was that he was not in his bedsit and that he was desperate for the bathroom.

It was so dark that he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. He scrabbled around on the bedside table for his phone but it wasn’t there. Think Timo, think…ahh yes, the amazing hot-tub blow job. And the lovely cuddles after. Then the shower then… guest bedroom? He must have passed out exhausted. Yes, that’s right. He remembered now, laying down for a minute then …nothing.

He frantically patted his hands all over the bed to check if there was another human in it. Nope, all alone. Why had Armie left him in here on his own? Wanker! Ok, he’d worry about that in a minute - his cock throbbed with the need to piss so his primary concern right now was finding the bloody bog - and quick sharpish! _Then_ he’d go find Mr H. And work out why he wasn’t currently snuggled up next to him like he’d planned.

He got out of bed and carefully shuffled across the room, over the thick rug and then onto the wooden floor, holding his arms out in front of him until his fingertips touched a wall. Right, that was good. Walls were good – there had to be a light switch somewhere….

He trailed his palm over the wallpaper until his fingers bumped against something. It felt like a shelf – could he remember a shelf? Maybe…he ran his hand along the smooth surface searching for a lamp or a switch, anything, when to his dismay, and before he really registered what was happening, there was a scraping noise, a thud - then the sound of shattering glass. _Oh shit!_

He instinctively jumped back and…ouch! Something sharp jabbed right into the bottom of his left foot. White hot pain shot up his leg, and that’s when he really _did_ shout out loud. So loud that he didn’t hear the sound of Armie thundering down the stairs until he burst into the room, managing to scare him shitless and turn him on at the same time – he looked fit as fuck silhouetted in the doorway wearing nothing but a pair of skin-tight boxer shorts.

“Timmy, what the hell happened? Are you alright?” He switched on the bright ceiling light.

Timmy squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden glare - and to give himself a moment…this was a fucking disaster! His foot was in agony, but that was nothing compared to the agonising worry of what Armie must be thinking - why was he so damn clumsy? He could kick himself – which was quite ironic considering the nature of his injury.

When he opened his eyes, he realised that he’d got his bearings completely knackered up and was in fact at the opposite side of the room to where he thought he was. The beautiful polished wood floor was covered with glass and blood. “Oh god, I’m sorry Armie. I couldn’t see in the dark and…and I’ve broken something and…”

“Don’t worry about that. Let me see your foot. Stay there.” Armie gingerly made his way over to Timmy then crouched down next to him. “Ok. So you’ve got a piece of glass in your heel. This might hurt…but it needs to come out,” and without any further warning, he pulled the thick shard out in one swift, smooth action.

Armie’s massive pack-up in those Tom Ford tighty-whities almost distracted Tim from the pain. _Almost…_

“Aghhhhhhh Fuuuck!” he shouted and dug his nails into Armie’s shoulder which in turn made Armie cry out, “Ow!”

On hearing the sound of his master’s voice, Archie clearly went into guard dog mode and four little paws could be heard scampering up the stairs. “Nice one Timotay. My dog’s awake now.” said Armie and he turned to the doorway, rubbing at the half-moon shaped indentations in the top of his arm. “Archie, stay! Stay!”

“I’m dripping all over the place,” said Timmy, and he plonked back down on the bed and gripped his foot in his hand. “I’m really sorry Armie. I can’t believe I fucked up on night one. Actually scrap that. Yes I can. I always do. I bet you’re already wishing you’d never asked me to stay, aren’t you?”

Armie frowned at him. “It was an accident. I shouldn’t have closed the blackout blinds. I didn’t think. So it’s my fault technically.”

“I’ll pay for it. Whatever it was. Was it expensive?”

“Don’t worry. It’s nothing. Let me go grab the first aid kit.” He turned to leave the room but Timmy had almost reached the point of no return and was very close to having a whole _other_ type of accident…

“Armie, I… oh god this is _so_ embarrassing. The thing is, I really need to piss. But I’m not sure I can balance on one foot and I don’t want to get blood on the rug and I…er…might need you to help.”

Armie laughed. “Frigging hell, there really is never a dull moment with you is there. Hang on, I have an idea,” and he whipped his undies off and wrapped them around Timmy’s foot. “There you go. Problem solved. Now put your arm around me.”

They shuffled their way into the bathroom. Armie positioned him near the toilet and opened the lid. “Need me to hold the Chala-mala-dingaling or what?” he said, nodding down at Timmy’s hard cock.

“It’s ding-dong actually. And no, I can manage thanks,” said Tim. “But I might need to bend it like Beckham. So don’t look!”

Even though he’d had Armie’s cock down his throat and vice-versa, this most basic of human bodily functions was still weirdly awkward in front of him. But desperation overrode embarrassment - and that’s how he came to be stood stark bollock naked, leant against his equally starkers new boyfriend, in a strange house, pissing like Niagara Falls, with blood-stained designer kegs wrapped around his foot. Talk about a comedy of errors…

“God I needed that,” said Tim, finishing up and sitting on the edge of the bath. “I nearly fucking waterboarded your dog back there.”

Armie threw his head back and laughed hard. “I’ve never known anyone like you, I swear to God. What were you doing anyway?”

“Trying to find the bathroom. And you.” Timmy looked up, biting the inside of his lip. “What did I break? Was it something special?”

Armie leant down and kissed him on the forehead. “Nothing special. Just a photograph frame. It’s fine. Forget about it. Wait there and I’ll go get something more appropriate to bandage you up with.”

Timmy didn’t really mind that the only thing he was wearing was Armie’s still-warm undies on his foot – it was a little bit comforting and a _lot_ horny - but he was getting decidedly chilly so he hopped across the tiled floor and put on the huge robe that he’d left draped over the towel rail. It was slightly damp from the night before but it would have to do for now. He couldn’t wait to unpack his own clobber in the morning - assuming he wasn’t going to be asked to leave that is.

When Armie came back, he was wearing grey sweat-shorts and a pale pink T-shirt and was carrying a dustpan and brush, a bin-bag and a first aid kit. He sat on the closed toilet seat opposite Timmy and picked up his foot. “Do you even know what you’re doing?” Timmy said, through gritted teeth. “I mean, should I go to hospital or something? Shall we call an ambulance? I might need stitches. Once when I was…”

“Shush. I learnt first aid in the boy scouts so I’m practically a doctor,” said Armie and he gently cleaned the wound with an antiseptic wipe, closed it with some sort of superglue type stuff and expertly bandaged it up. “All done.” He kissed Timmy’s foot and placed it back on the floor and threw his ruined underwear in the bin bag. “Now stay put while I clean up. What time is it anyway? Maybe we should just think about going back to bed.”

It was only 3.15am but there was no way Timmy would be able to sleep now - he was too wired. His sleep patterns were ridiculous at the best of times having performed in evening theatre shows for a large part of his childhood - so if there was any ‘going back to bed’ to be done, it wouldn’t be for sleeping purposes, no way Jose! It was a pity those Tom Fords were buggered because, good god, did his arse look splendid in them.

He stood up in the doorway and watched as Armie carefully removed the photograph from its broken frame, laid it on the bed and slowly ran a finger over the shiny surface.

“Who’s in the picture?” Timmy asked. Armie turned to look at him, opened his mouth as if to say something, then dropped down to his knees and carried on with the practicalities of cleaning the floor. A full minute passed before he spoke. “I’ll make some coffee. We can talk downstairs. Are you ok to walk on your own?”

Timmy nodded and pulled the belt of his robe tighter – okaaaay, so what was the deal with the photograph? He couldn’t tell if Armie was angry or upset…or something else. So he braced himself for a painful walk down two flights of stairs – and a possible showdown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well we made it to 2021 - still a way to go in terms of 'normal' like...but Happy New Year! 🍾🎉🎊🥳🥂👏
> 
> I do have fun with these two and hopefully you won't have to wait too long for the next chapter. Thank you as always for your lovely comments - I NEVER get tired of reading them. So if you like it, I'd love for you to let me know ❤️
> 
> Stay safe & Sane 😘


	7. Invincible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timmy uses his powers of seduction. Armie finally lets go. Archie sleeps through it all 🤍

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter might be explicit - who knows...
> 
> My pics - The Shambles in the rain 
> 
> enjoy!😘

  
By the time Timmy had hobbled down the two flights of stairs, Armie was already halfway through manually grinding coffee beans at breakneck speed with a hand-held wooden gadget.

“How do you like your coffee?” he asked without turning around.

The photograph was face-down on the kitchen island so Tim sat right at the other end and pretended not to notice it. Armie had seemed ok with everything – the broken glass, the blood, the world’s longest piss – all of it, until he’d asked about that damn picture. Then it had been like flicking a switch – and who knew that anger-grinding coffee beans was a thing?

“I don’t want to be any trouble.” After already causing a shitload of drama on night one, he thought he’d best play it safe. “I’ll er…just have what you’re having.”

Armie stopped what he was doing and turned around. “I know I went a bit weird back there. But trust me Tim, it’s not you, its me.”

Timmy’s heart leapt in his throat. Uh-oh, here we go. If he had a quid for every time he’d heard that old chestnut... _It’s not you, it’s me_. Yeah right. He took a deep breath and chewed the inside of his mouth.

Armie was by his side in three long strides. “Oh god, no. I didn’t mean…come here.” He held his face and kissed him. “I just meant that I’m not like you. I keep things in. You’ll have to be patient with me.” He kissed him again. “And you _are_ trouble. But the good kind of trouble. And I plan on making you coffee every morning for the foreseeable, so let’s try again. How do you like your coffee?”

Timmy grinned. Phew! Crisis averted. “Cappuccino please. One shot. Two sugars. And lots of chocolate sprinkles if you have them.”

Armie laughed. “How did I guess. One sickly sweet baby-coffee coming up!”

Armie was the hottest goddamn barista Tim had ever seen, pressing buttons on the fancy machine, carefully measuring out the freshly ground coffee and expertly frothing the milk in a silver jug. Why the hell that was turning him on was anybody’s guess.

“It’s my kid brother’s wedding,” Armie said as he sat down opposite Timmy and reached over to slide the photograph in between them. “I don’t know why, but it just made me really fucking sad when I saw it. Happier times I guess. I’d forgotten it was up there on the shelf to tell you the truth.”

Timmy angled his head to get a good skeg – he was itching to see what the ex looked like, and he had a million questions about the Hammer Clan. But he willed himself to keep his gob shut for once and let him carry on.

“That’s my Mom there. And right at the other side, my Dad. They were already divorced by then. There’s Viktor, my brother. We are _nothing_ alike. That’s me and Elizabeth. And the goofy looking one there is my cousin Buck. We used to be close. I don’t know…”

Timmy thought Armie had got himself all wrong – he _was_ good at expressing his emotions, just not verbally. Talk about the eyes being the windows to the soul – those beautiful, deep, pools of blue were breaking his heart!

“I miss them. I know I fucked up but you’d think I committed a murder or molested someone the way they all reacted. But my Mom actually video called me yesterday out of the blue, so who knows. I might be forgiven at some point. Although if they could see me now...” Armie stared at the picture for a moment longer then scooted it away. “How’s the foot?”

Timmy didn’t know if it was the affair that was the issue, or that the affair was with a man, but he was more than happy to change the subject. He flexed his ankle. “It’s fine. I think those Tom Ford undies must have magic healing powers. I might have to fish them out of the bin for future use.”

Armie smiled and, just like that, his whole face lit up and his eyes sparkled again. Timmy knew then that he could make this lovely gentle giant of a man happy again, given the chance. And he knew this was only a temporary thing until the world went back to normal but, god, was he falling for him...

He didn’t want Armie to see he was getting emosh so he casually turned away and pretended to be looking out at the garden. But it was still pitch dark outside and all he could see was his own reflection in the glass patio doors. He frowned - his hair was a crazy mop, his mono-brow was out of control and there was a four-day-old struggle-stache sprouting on his upper lip – Jesus! He really should be making more of an effort for his new boyfriend. Although he _had_ made sure his shower was very thorough last night, just in case. Which reminded him…

“Hey, how come you deserted me last night anyway? I nearly crapped my pants when I woke up on my own. Didn’t have a clue where I was. It was fucking terrifying.”

“I had a fright myself when I got back from walking Archie. I was convinced you’d done a runner.” Armie took a sip of his coffee and smiled. “So just in case you got any ideas, I thought I’d best hold you captive in my spare room as a sex slave for lockdown. Plus I didn’t want you mucking up my nice master bedroom.”

Timmy stared at him for a moment with his eyebrows raised – then scooped a big dollop of froth from the top of his coffee and flicked it at him. “Bullseye!”

Chocolatey foam landed right on Armie’s ear and started to slowly drip down his neck. Timmy hopped off his stool and walked around the island, leaned over, and licked it off Armie’s jaw with one big swipe of his tongue - then sucked on his ear lobe, hard!

Armie tilted his head back and groaned deep in his throat. “You little shit.” He swivelled on his stool, grabbed Timmy’s arse and roughly pulled him in between his spread knees. “Don’t start what you can’t finish,” he growled and fisted a chunk of his hair and crashed their mouths together.

There was no fear of that – Timmy had a knack of getting what he wanted and had every intention of finishing _exactly_ what he’d started…

They came up for air five minutes later, leant against the kitchen counter, both with raging hard-on’s, messy hair and sore chins. Timmy’s robe had come undone and Armie’s T-shirt was in a ball at their feet. He’d managed to keep his shorts on despite Timmy’s numerous attempts mid-snog to push them down – they were his last tentative hold on his self-control.

“I want you to fuck me,” Tim said, just like that.

“What’s the rush? Slow down.” Armie knew he sounded ridiculous – and he didn’t even know why he said it! He’d thought of nothing else for the last two weeks and here was his gorgeous new boyfriend more or less begging for it – what the hell was wrong with him?

Timmy took a step back. “Why? What are we waiting for? Don’t you want me?”

“Of course I do! But…are you sure?”

Tim threw his hands out in front of him. “You’re kidding me, right? I’ve been gagging for it since I clapped eyes on your grumpy face at the foodbank. Well, I tell a lie. It was your arse I noticed, then your face.”

“I saw you first, remember,” said Armie, smiling. “But are you, you know…will it be ok? Don’t forget I’m out of practice.”

“You might be but I’m not. Out of practice I mean. I could just bend over here, look…” Timmy started rambling, “But I don’t for the life of me know where that lube went. We could improvise I suppose. I’ve done it before. Mind you, I once had a really bad experience with a tub of beef dripping. I got drunk and copped off with a chavvy lad from the butcher’s counter at Morrison’s last Christmas and it seemed like a good idea at the time but…”

“Tim! Stop.” Armie grabbed his wrist. “Let me tell you something about myself. I’m a really jealous person. Especially when it comes to you. I get that you’ve got previous, but _please_ , can you spare me the fucking details, ok?”

Timmy pretended to zip his mouth shut and lock it with an imaginary key and gave him a thumbs-up. But then with a wicked glint in his eyes he couldn’t help himself blurt out, “I swear to god I had stray dogs following me home on the walk-of-shame in the morning and...”

Armie immediately picked him up and slung him over his shoulder in a fireman’s-lift. “Right, that’s it! I’ve a good mind to spank you for that. Hard!”

“Yes please,” squealed Tim, kicking his legs in mock protest as Armie playfully slapped him on the backside and spun him around the kitchen until they were both dizzy.

Armie knew he was stalling again, but was this really how it was going to happen? Here? Now? He had imagined their first time – and his first time in a _long_ time – to be romantic, and at night, maybe with soft music playing in the background and candles. Not in the frigging kitchen with yesterday’s left-over dinner on the counter and the overflowing dog’s kibble bowl at their feet!

He placed him back down on the floor and they both caught their breath, toe to toe, staring into each other’s faces. The air was charged. Armie reached over and opened a drawer and brought out the missing bottle of lube and placed it on the counter.

“Ahh so _that’s_ where it went! I knew I’d find something wrong with you,” Timmy laughed. “You _are_ human after all. You’ve got a kitchen shit-draw like normal people!”

“Guilty as charged.” Armie smiled. Then he ran his hands from Tim’s shoulders right down his smooth, firm arms and held both of his hands in his. “Cards on the table, I’m nervous.”

Timmy rubbed his thumbs over the backs of Armie’s hands. “Me too, a bit. But…I really want this. Want you. Want to make you happy.”

“Oh Tim…” moaned Armie. “I want that too.” Ok, so this _was_ actually happening. “Give me two minutes.” He raced up three flights of stairs and scrabbled about in his bedside drawer for condoms. He checked the sell-by date and said a little prayer to the gods of Durex, quickly used the bathroom then flew back downstairs, just stopping briefly to check that Archie was asleep in his bed. That’s all he needed after a three-year dry-spell, his bloody dog walking in on the action and ruining it!

It dawned on him then that they could just go up to his bedroom – doh! But by the time he got back downstairs, Timmy had spread his robe out on the large sofa in the lounge area and was laid on his back with his legs splayed apart and his eyes closed, slowly stroking himself. His lips were pink and swollen and his neck marked from their kisses…

…and Armie realised that he didn’t give a shit if they made love in a bed, or the sofa or the garden shed. Or if the dog was watching or any of the curtain-twitchers next door could see. He just wanted him. Anywhere. Everywhere. Always. _Let him please stay long enough for them to christen every room in the house. Let him stay forever._

He stood for a second and just stared at him laid there, completely comfortable in his own skin, without shame or embarrassment, achingly beautiful with all his perfect imperfections – the scar on his cheek, the lock of hair that perpetually flopped over his eyes, the tiny birthmark on his lip - waiting to be taken. Armie’s heart raced with a heady mix of love, fear, arousal, anticipation, excitement – _Oh god please let it be ok, please let me not be a disappointment, please let me not hurt him…_

Timmy opened his eyes and smiled. “I started without you. Come here,” and he reached out for him.

Armie stepped out of his shorts and sat down on the edge of the sofa, dying to make a move but not knowing what – then Timmy took his hand, drizzled lube on it and guided his first two fingers against his opening. “Just go in slowly, ok? Don’t, you know, _hammer_ it in.”

And in the end, it didn’t matter that it was awkward and fumbled and that their first position proved to be impossible with the size difference. And it didn’t matter that they got a fit of the giggles and had to switch places halfway through when Armie kept clonking his head on the table lamp. Nor did they care that it was very nearly over with in a matter of minutes because they were both so ready for it.

None of that mattered - because as he laid there, stretched out on the rug, deep inside the body of the wonderful man knelt astride him, Armie knew this was right, this was where he was meant to be and this was the person he was meant to be with. And all the other stuff could be worked out in time.

Now all he needed was to hang on somehow, and make sure Tim came first…

He tilted his groin up and held Timmy’s hips and called him ‘perfect’ and ‘beautiful’ because he knew he loved that. Tim’s moans got louder as he rocked faster and faster, with one hand pressing on Armie’s chest and the other around his own cock, pumping into his fist with every rock of his hips. His lips were parted and his eyes half closed and he was panting heavily. He was close. Armie held him tighter and pushed his own hips up to meet him. “Come on me Tim, I want you to come on me.”

That did it – and with a loud, “Fuuuck!” Tim spilled all over Armie’s stomach and chest, then slumped forwards, exhausted, smearing his cum on them both.

Armie planted his feet on the floor, grabbed Timmy’s arse cheeks hard and thrust upwards, once, twice, three times - then came deep inside him seconds later with a groan that was _sure_ to wake Archie up!

They laughed and held each other while they caught their breath then Timmy carefully stood up and used Armie’s discarded shorts to wipe his chest. “Are you systematically soiling all my clothes with your bodily fluids Timotay? First my underwear, now my shorts.”

“That’s the plan,” grinned Tim, his face flushed and his hair damp.

Armie wrapped the condom in a tissue. “Should we, you know…jump in the shower or something?” His previous partners including his wife had wanted to immediately wash off the traces of love-making.

Not Tim - he shook his head and held his arms out. “Sex is messy, but who cares. Cuddle first, then shower.” So they relocated back to the sofa and lay spooning, covered in a soft cashmere throw, Armie with his knees tucked behind Timmy’s and his arms tight around him.

The sky was lightening and they could hear the dawn chorus of the birds in the garden. Tim was trailing his nails gently up and down his arms making him break out in little tingly goose-bumps. After a while Archie wandered into the room, jumped up and snuggled himself near their feet – and Armie thought if he died right now, he’d die a happy man.

He hadn’t felt so…content? Yes, that was the right word, content, in…ever? It wasn’t just the sex, it was _everything_. Although the fuck had been amazing! And he was pretty certain that Timmy had liked it, but he needed to know for sure. “Tim, was it ok?”

“Not bad for round one, Hammer. Not bad at all.” Timmy twisted his head around to kiss him. “Aw Armie, I’m winding you up you big daft sod! It was great. I don’t know what you were so worried about. I knew it would be good with you.” They kissed again, then Tim said, “But I do have one complaint.”

Armie sat up. “Oh god, what?”

“You might need to re-take your Boy Scouts first aid course.” Timmy wiggled his leg out from under the cover and lifted his foot in the air. “My fucking bandage has come off!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I once read an interview with Stephen King where he was asked why he made the little boy in Cujo die and he said, 'It just happened'
> 
> Now I'm in no way comparing myself to the mighty King but I hadn't planned on them having a shag until about chapter 12 but then this...just happened!
> 
> It took me ages to get it right - lots of research again 😉 
> 
> I'm chuffed to bits with all your lovely comments - thank you! 🤗 (keep them coming please - they are my fuel!)
> 
> And a special thanks to Kittenpurple for the magic underpants line and valgal78 on Tumblr for the 'perfect imperfections'😊 And to Always_Klaine for remembering where the lube went 😉


	8. Butterfly On A Wheel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie has to work. Timmy has a problem. They learn new things about each other 💕

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: No dogs were actually throttled in the making of this fiction - but there are mentions of ropes & omelettes 😉
> 
> sorry not sorry - enjoy!
> 
> (Pics are mine from the York Art Gallery)

  
Timmy knelt down on the floor of the room he’d secretly named ‘the dumping ground’ - for various reasons - and began emptying his worldly belongings out of the large containers. Much as he’d enjoyed hanging loose in Armie’s massive bathrobes for almost twenty-four hours, he was actually dying to get back in his own togs now. But there was a problem. A big problem!

He wrinkled up his nose in disgust just as Armie passed by the doorway on his way down to his make-shift office in the library. “You ok there Timo? What’s up? Is it your foot? I can put another bandage on if you want?”

“No, the foot’s good thanks. Its nothing,” said Tim, unconvincingly. “I’m fine. Go on. I don’t want to make you late for work.” He carried on taking out his clothes, sniffing them and tossing them in a growing heap on the rug.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m the boss. I can do what I like. So let’s try again. What’s up?”

Tim sat back on his heels. “It’s my clothes. They stink. Like, they really fucking honk!” He held out a baby-pink hoodie for Armie to sniff. “See? I told you HMO stood for Horrible Mouse Odour. Be honest, have I been walking around smelling like mouse piss?”

Armie laughed. “You haven’t, I promise. But if you’re _that_ bothered, just leave everything in the boxes and Tracey will take care of it all tomorrow. I’ll lend you something of mine to wear in the meantime. In fact I have just the thing...” He dashed back upstairs.

Timmy stuffed everything back into the containers, slammed the lids down and sat on the edge of the bed with his arms folded in a strop. How embarrassing! But the damn housekeeper best look after his clothes – they’d cost a bloody arm and a leg!

“Here you go. These are a little too tight on me. And I bet red suits you.” Armie tossed him an Adidas tracksuit and a white vest top. “I’ll be done in a couple of hours so just check out the house, help yourself to anything, go where you like, eat what you like. Whatever. Then we can have…” and he wiggled his two fingers in the air, “… _the talk_ , ok?”

“Oh don’t you worry Hammer. I have a long list of questions,” said Tim, then, “Come here and kiss me before you disappear to do…whatever it is you do.” He held his arms out and made a grabby-hands gesture.

Armie stepped into the room and walked towards him. “I thought you were worried about making me late?” He took hold of Tim’s hands, pushed him back onto the bed and straddled him with his knees, pinning his arms above his head. “But since you asked so nicely…” he leaned down and kissed first his neck, then his jaw then his lips.

Timmy moaned and opened his mouth to let their tongues slide together. God, how he loved being held down by him and he couldn’t wait for them to fuck again. He was hard already – and made sure Armie knew by grinding his hips up against him.

“No, no, no, no, no.” Armie let go of his hands and sat back up. “Another ten seconds of that and I’ll _never_ get to work.”

“Thought you said you were the boss?” smiled Tim with his arms still in position over his head and his stiff cock peeking out from the loosely tied robe. Christ alive! Armie looked hot as hell all suited and booted in his corporate clobber. Phew!

Armie groaned and looked at his watch and then back down at Timmy. “Do you know how much I want you again right now? But I’ve got an important zoom meeting in exactly five minutes.” He bent down and pecked him on the cheek. “Don’t forget to call your Mom.”

“I won’t. But fuck knows what she’ll say.”

“Well I can guarantee it’ll be a damn sight more polite than what _my_ mother would say if she knew I was shacked-up with you.” Armie climbed off the bed and smoothed down his crisp blue shirt.

Tim sat up. “How come?”

“Oh…er…she just loved my ex that’s all. They were very close friends. Maybe still are for all I know. Ok, I really do have to go now. Try and not break anything.”

Timmy laid there for a while, debating whether or not to have a quick wank but then Archie wandered into the room, so that put the bloody tin lid on _that_ idea! Thank god the furry little cock-blocker slept in his own bedroom at night because, horny as Tim was, being watched by the doggo was a definite buzzkill. And he planned to fuck Armie – a lot!

He got up and pulled on the tracksuit pants, rolled the waistband over a couple of times and put the vest on. He stood in front of the mirror. “What do you think Arch? More accessories maybe?”

After a quick rummage in his back-pack and the bin bag he unearthed his box of jewellery, put on a chunky silver chain and then set-to and laid the rest out neatly on a sliding tray in the fancy closet. He lined up all his footwear in the shoe-racks, stacked his toiletries in the bathroom cabinet and straightened out the bed. Room sorted! It wouldn’t stay neat and tidy for long but at least the thought was there.

And besides, he had zero intention of ever actually _sleeping_ in this bedroom again – no way! – but he quite liked the idea of having his own space for all his shit. And _to_ shit. Because despite the embarrassing bathroom shenanigans last night, they weren’t at the stage of sharing _everything_ yet. If ever! Boyfriend or not, he’d endured enough communal khazis over the years to last a lifetime.

He spent the next hour checking out all the other rooms in the house, starting at the top in the master suite. He was still no closer to figuring out what the tailors dummy thing was for, having found no evidence of dressmaking paraphernalia, and he suddenly developed an ear-worm of the theme from the Twilight Zone after a quick look in Armie’s dressing room – it was so neat it was scary!

Smart shirts were lined up in colour coordinated groups with exact spacing between the grey velvet hangers. Jumpers and T-shirts were precisely folded on the shelves with layers of tissue paper in between them. Even his under-crackers were laid out according to brand and style in neat rows in the drawers. Was this Armie’s doing or the housekeeper’s? Either way, Tim figured it was yet another valid reason to keep their stuff in separate rooms. The last thing he wanted to do was to piss Armie off with his customary chaos and clutter.

Working his way down each floor, he peeked in cupboards and checked out the view from all the windows. And in the basement he even discovered a small room decked out with professional looking gym equipment that he hadn’t seen before – not that he was ever likely to use it. He swore he was allergic to all forms of physical exercise apart from energetic shagging. Although those mirrored walls could be quite interesting…

The only room he didn’t go in was the library so as not to disturb the Master at Work - but he couldn’t resist eavesdropping for a moment with his ear pressed against the door. Armie sounded so different! Not like ‘foodbank Armie’ and not like kind, caring lover-Armie – but like ‘ _I’m in charge and don’t you forget it’_ Armie – and what a turn-on that was! Jesus, this man was getting hotter by the minute!

Archie had padded around with him on his tour of the house like a little shadow until they found themselves back on the ground floor when he lost interest and went to bark at the neighbours and torment squirrels in the garden instead. Timmy grabbed a beer out of the fridge, settled down on the sofa, unlocked his phone and mentally prepared himself for a barrage of histrionics…

“Hi Mom! Listen, I have something to tell you. You know that guy I told you about?”

“Which one? The tall one? Or that bald one with the weird do-dah from the night club?”

“Mom! That was ages ago! No, I mean the tall one. Armie, from the foodbank. Anyway…well here’s the thing…I’ve moved in with him! It’s a long story but basically, I had to leave my place and he said I could stay with him until lockdown ends. And Mom…” he dropped his voice, “…you’re not gonna believe this house. It’s beautiful!”

“Good god Timmy! I feel sick! What happened? Are you alright?”

“Don’t panic. It’s all good. Oh and another thing, I’ve been paid by the production company. Armie sorted it all out. So I can send the money back to you.”

“Oh my Christ! What is he paying you for? I dread to think. He’s not asked you to do anything weird has he? Maureen from work, you know, with the wonky eye? Well she had a boyfriend once and he was into all-sorts of kinky stuff. You’ll never _believe_ what he wanted her to do…”

“Mom stop! He’s lovely. Really lovely. You’ll like him. He cooks the most amazing omelettes. And…” he lowered his voice to a whisper. “…I think I’m falling for him.”

“What? Just because he can whisk an egg? Oh behave! You’ve only just met him. I’ll tell you what your problem is son, since you turned twelve you’ve let Little Timmy rule your brain! Me and your Dad used to worry it would drop off! Or you’d go blind or something. Oh god, what is your Grandma going to say? Are you using protection? What sort of condoms do they have over there? I read something the other day…”

“Right that’s it! I’ve gotta go. I’ll transfer the money today and I’ll message you with my new address. Say hi to everyone. Bye Mom. Love you.”

He cut off the call, tossed the phone on the armchair opposite and threw himself back on the sofa. “Well that went exactly as expected,” he said out loud, then got up and opened the front door to check what number house he now lived at just to be sure.

Number One. Of course it was.

Armie had a tortuous two hours of frustrating contract negotiations when all he could really think about was Timmy’s come-face this morning – and how he couldn’t wait to make him come again. He wrapped up the meeting, replied to a few emails and then clocked-off for the day at just gone five. He figured something as momentous as a new boyfriend moving in warranted him taking some time off work - not that he’d told his colleagues that. They didn’t need to know _anything!_

He got himself a beer out of the fridge, undid the top two buttons of his shirt and stuck his head out of the back door. “Archie! Quiet! Quiet!” then went to join Timmy on the sofa. “I could throttle that dog sometimes. Do you know, a group of Japanese tourists doing a tour of the city walls once formally complained about his yapping?”

“Ah, you love him really.” Timmy laid back and rested his feet in Armie’s lap. “How was work?”

“Boring. How did the call to your Mom go?” Armie pushed his hand up the leg of the red trackies and rubbed Tim’s calf. He loved the feel of the soft hairs on his slim legs. And who knew that wearing _his_ clothes would be such a massive turn-on?

“She’s a chuffing mad woman I swear,” Tim laughed. “I’m telling you, she’d be on the first flight over here right now given half a chance. Thank fuck for a global lockdown I say.”

Armie hated lockdown talk. Correction – he hated the thought of the _end_ of the lockdown. Because that meant Timmy would leave. And he couldn’t even bring himself to think about that, so he changed the subject. “You _do_ look good in red, you know.”

Timmy did a theatrical flourish with his hand. “I can no other answer make but thanks, and thanks, and ever thanks.” Then he said, “Armie…? You know this serious talk we’re meant to be having? I’ve decided I’m not arsed now. I think I might have overreacted to er…certain things.”

Armie thought about it for half a minute. “It might be good to clear the air though.”

Timmy stared down at the floor and frowned. Then tilted his head – still gazing at the rug. Then looked up and smiled. Armie could literally see the thought process flowing through his brain and it was cute as hell, but he struggled to keep a straight face. This man!

“I know!” Tim blurted out, sitting up excited now. “Why don’t we take turns to ask each other a question. Like a quick-fire round type thing.”

“That works for me,” said Armie. “But let me go grab a couple more beers first.” He took his time walking over to the fridge and tried to decide what questions he wanted the answers to – apart from the obvious: Did you really like it this morning? How many partners have you had? Are you going to leave me once lockdown ends? Will you sleep in my bed with me tonight – and every night, please, please, please…

But he knew he would ask none of these things. He went back to the sofa and handed Tim another beer. “Ok, since it was your idea, you go first.”

Timmy sat up and twisted open the cap. “Ok, here goes. Did you orchestrate all of this to use me for sex during lockdown?”

Armie threw his head back and laughed. “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous. It was all just sliding doors and karma. Right, my turn now. Let me think…ok, tell me something I don’t yet know about you?”

“Oh you’d be surprised. So…I can play guitar and piano. I’m a black belt in junior taekwondo. And here’s one for you, I can speak fluent French. Its where my Dad’s from.”

“Timothée Chalamet. French Porn Star name. Figures. Go on then, prove it. The French, not the martial arts.” The sexual tension in the air was palpable. Armie was already a gonner.

Timmy stared him straight in the face and bit his bottom lip and then said, _“J’ai l’intention de baiser avec vous tous les jours et la nuit vous homme sexy jusqu’à ce que votre pénis tombe.”_

Armie was floored. And hard. Very hard! He thought he heard the word ‘penis’ but he couldn’t be sure. Was there seriously no end to this amazing man’s talents? “I have no idea what you just said Tim but, fucking hell, you are so damn sexy, do you know that? We’re meant to be having a serious talk, and now I can’t even think straight!”

Timmy laughed. “You should see me in France. My sister says I’m like a different person. Anyway, my turn again. So… I’ve gotta ask, what’s with the creepy torso thing in the bedroom? I mean, no kink-shaming here but, _what the fuck?”_

Armie was ready for this question. “You’ve seen the pictures on the stairs, right? So, it’s just something I’m into. Knots. I like them. They’re… _logical_ I suppose.”

“Show me.” Timmy did the bottom-lip-bite thing again and Armie thought he might seriously have some sort of heart attack. And there was no hiding the fact that he was pitching a tent in his black jeans as he stood up, lifted his shirt and slid the rope from his belt-loops. He could see Timmy’s eyes checking out his nether regions.

“Hold out your hands Tim. Palms up. That’s it.” Armie twisted the rope into a series of figure-of-eights and then gathered them up and looped them around Tim’s wrists and pulled the long ends tight. “Basic handcuff knot. Very effective. Easy to do. Hard to get out of. Try it.”

Timmy looked up at him and grinned. “You practice _this_ on a tailors dummy? No wonder you need me in your life. Now, let’s see…” he twisted his wrists this way and that, contorting his arms into impossible curves to try and release himself. He even resorted to trying to loosen the knots with his teeth, but to no avail.

Armie stood over him, amused. “Do you give up?”

“I won’t lie Armie. I’m finding this really fucking hot.” They both looked down at the growing bulge in the red joggers.

“I can see that.” Armie wound the loose ends of the rope around one hand, pulled Tim up off the sofa and cupped his other hand over Tim’s hard cock. “Look at you. Fuck Tim, I can’t keep my hands off you. I swear no one else has made me feel like this. No-one.”

_“Bon. Parce que j’ai hâte que tu me baises à nouveau.”_

Again, Armie was clueless – but he didn’t care. He pulled him into a mouth-crushing kiss – and said the only French phrase that came to mind. “Mon Dieu!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeh bah gum! What a bloody carry-on eh?
> 
> I have chatted to lots of you privately and you know my thoughts - THIS IS 100% FICTION - probably...
> 
> Hang in there you lovely lot! 💜
> 
> Stay safe and sane dear readers - and as we say here in Yorkshire, it'll be reet!
> 
> (I live for your comments as ever so I would love it if you left one - us Charmie writers need all the motivation we can get right now - thank you! 🥰)


	9. On An Island With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie shows off his skills 🪢  
> Archie is curious 👀  
> Timmy is furious!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pictures are mine 😊 And don't you think Shed Seven songs make the perfect chapter titles for this fic? Enjoy! 💙

  
“Mon Dieu indeed,” said Tim grinning up at him. “So you gonna untie me or what?”

Armie’s heart was racing, and he couldn’t seem to drag his eyes away from that tiny freckle on Tim’s lip. He took a deep breath – and a leap of faith. “I’d like to try something first. It might be fun and I think you’ll like it. But just tell me if you want to stop, ok?”

Timmy’s eyes gleamed. “I won’t. Want to stop I mean. But will I need a safe word? I’ve got one at the ready if I do. I’ve had the same one ever since…”

“Good God Timmy. What on earth do you think I’m planning to do at…” he looked at the big clock on the wall. “…half past five in the afternoon in the middle of the kitchen?” Armie shook his head. “There won’t be any need for _safe_ words.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the person in handcuffs,” Tim laughed and pretended to struggle in his rope-belt bondage. “Its _pineapple_ by the way.”

“What’s pineapple?” asked Armie, pulling him across the kitchen, using the rope as a lead.

“My safe word.”

He led him over to the central island. “How come?”

“Well, it’s one hell of a story. So…on my very first night in York, the guys playing Rosencrantz and Guildenstern took me to the Black Orchid. You know, the strip club near the train station, and…”

“In fact, scrap that. I’d rather not know,” said Armie, and he swivelled Tim around by his shoulders and gently pushed him back against the counter. The thought of Timmy having to use a safe word with anybody else was too much to take. He blocked it out of his mind – and vowed not to buy pineapples any time soon. “Now stop talking. Just relax your arms. And don’t fight.”

He lifted him up with both hands around his waist and sat him on the work top, and just held him there for a second - oh how he loved to hold him like this! He kissed him softly on the lips. “It’s only for fun remember?” Then he took the rope and looped it over the metal rails of the pan-rack suspended above the kitchen island. A simple mooring hitch secured it in place, then he carefully pulled on the loose end, tightening the rope, and forcing Timmy’s arms to stretch upwards towards the ceiling.

He tied off the knot and stood back to admire his handiwork. “Fuck Tim. I know I keep saying it but _look at you_! You’re fucking beautiful. Is it ok though? Are you alright? I swear to god…” He couldn’t finish his sentence. Tim’s shallow breaths, parted lips – and _raging hard-on_ told him that yes, everything was absolutely cock-on.

Armie’s heart was pounding. He slid his hands into the waistband of the red tracksuit bottoms and slowly, slowly pulled them over Tim’s hips and legs, down to his feet, and then wrapped them around his ankles, effectively binding them together. “I’m going to touch you now, ok.” It wasn’t a question. Tim nodded anyway.

Starting at his calves, he ran his hands gently up the inside of Tim’s legs, caressing the backs of his knees with his fingers, then up between his pressed-together thighs and into the silky soft skin of his groin. He applied some pressure. “Open your legs for me.”

Oh god what a sight for sore eyes he was, sat there in the loose white vest and nothing else, slender firm thighs parted wide, long cock erect, arms stretched up, and biting at his lower lip. Armie reached up and gripped Tim’s bound wrists with one hand and leaned in to kiss his mouth and then his neck, sucking little marks into the pale, soft skin. He whispered in his ear, “I can’t wait to fuck you again.”

Timmy tilted his head to one side and moaned out his name, “Armie, Armie, please…”

“Shh. _Be_ _patient_.” Armie used both thumbs to rub the soft, dark hair of his armpits then he pulled the white vest to one side and sucked first on his right nipple, then the left, until they hardened. They felt like tiny little pebbles on his tongue and he fought the urge to bite them. Boundaries, Armie, boundaries…this was all so new to him!

“Armie, fuck…yes, yes, harder,” Tim panted, breathlessly - and with his head thrown back and his groin thrust up, he rocked his hips backwards and forwards on the worktop, trying to get friction on something, _anything_ …

 _CLANG_ \- a huge metal rivet fell from the ceiling, ricocheted off the work top and bounced across the kitchen floor. Then _CLANG_ another! Armie jumped back. “Oh shit. Stay still Tim. And I mean, do not move!” The heavy metal rack shifted and made a horrible creaking noise.

“Pineapple! Pineapple! Armie, _pineapple_!” shouted a frantic Timmy, over the cacophony of rattling copper kitchen utensils. “Untie me quick before I get wiped out by a fucking frying-pan!”

Armie reached up and yanked hard on the loose end of the rope - thank fuck he'd mastered the art of the quick-release knot! – and just-like-that, Tim’s arms were free. He jumped off the worktop mere seconds before one end of the rack swung loose and hung down from the ceiling, narrowly missing both of their heads.

Phew that was close! It dawned on Armie then that Tim had used that damn safe word after all!

Armie was turning out to be more and more intriguing by the minute – a rope belt at the ready no less! Who’da thunk it? Tim had dabbled in a bit of light bondage before but being spontaneously tied up and at the mercy of Hornpot Hammer had to be just about the sexiest thing ever - until his near-death experience with a fucking low-flying wok that is!

And if it wasn’t for Armie’s ninja-like reflexes he would have gone arse-over-tit on the kitchen floor, all tangled up in the trackie bottoms still wrapped around his ankles. He was starting to genuinely wonder if he was jinxed or something. Like, was the curse of clumsiness a thing? He’d ask his Mom if it ran in the family…

Armie didn’t seem all that bothered that he’d now managed to break something else in the space of half a day, other than his usual _‘what the fuck am I letting myself in for’_ lookand just said that Tracey’s husband, Henry would fix it, no problem. After he’d calmed down, Timmy wondered if it would be ok to ask Henry to maybe _reinforce_ it, because, fuck, that was hot as hell - while it lasted.

So after a quick chip butty and a whip around the block with Archie, they relocated upstairs to the master suite where it was Tim’s turn then to worship Armie’s body. He was desperately horny but he tried his best to _be patient,_ and took his time exploring his huge, new boyfriend anywhere and everywhere with his fingers and his mouth.

He’d never been with anyone so physically perfect – a broad chest with just the right amount of hair, thick thighs tapering down to slim calves and ankles, full balls - and a smooth, thick, hard cock that he fully intended to have back inside of him as soon as they sorted out the lube sitch! Correction - the _lack_ of lube sitch. And the thought of wrapping his dick in one of Armie’s almost-out-of-date johnnies wasn’t all that appealing either if the truth be told. He made a mental note to get to Savers quick sharpish first thing tomorrow to do a big-shop.

But Tim wasn’t about to let the lack of supplies hold them back. Armie stretched out on his back in the middle of the huge bed while he crawled all over him and kissed his way down his body, starting at his neck. “Tell me what all the muscles are called Armie,” he said, and then repeated the Latin words back to him with every kiss. “Trapezius. Pectoralis major. Rectus abdominis. Gluteus Medius…”

And when they couldn’t wait any longer, he spread Armie’s legs wide and positioned himself in-between them and, with one arm bracing himself up, he pressed his hips down and rubbed their hard cocks together in a nice, steady rhythm, back and forth. “Is this ok Armie?” he panted, flicking his eyes from Armie’s blissed-out face to the cock-on-cock action down below. “Do you think you can come like this?”

Armie nodded. “Yeah, yeah I can…” and reached around to squeeze Tim’s arse with both hands – hard! Timmy cried out in pleasure-pain. The rhythm sped up. They both watched as their cocks slid together, the heads swollen and slick with precum. Sweat ran between their bodies. And it was fucking marvellous. And Tim was very close…

…until something caught his eye in the mirror. He looked over his shoulder, to see Archie stood in the doorway with his head cocked to one side, watching the action with a mild curiosity.

Fucking, shitting hell! First it was the frying pan and now the frigging dog! Talk about coitus interruptus. Tim lobbed a pillow in his general direction. “Bugger off Archie!” Archie didn’t move but just cocked his head to the other side.

“Hey, leave my dog alone you!” Armie propped himself up on his elbows. “He’s confused that’s all. He’ll have heard us through the intercom and wondered what was happening.”

Timmy threw himself back on the bed in his usual spectacularly dramatic fashion, chewed the inside of his mouth for a second or two and then sat straight back up again. “So let me get this right…the doggy baby monitor thingy is two-way? And he’s been listening to us?”

Armie looked slightly embarrassed. And there was that adorable blush again. “I’ve told you, he has nightmares. So I, you know, talk to him sometimes.” Timmy pictured him having a full-on midnight convo with Archie through the intercom – and his heart just _melted_. Then Armie said, “We could turn it off I suppose, when we’re in the mood…”

...which wound him right back up again! In the mood? _In the bloody mood?_ Was he having a laugh? His balls were literally going to explode if he didn’t come soon.

“You best just have it taken out then because I need a bit of how’s-your-father on a daily basis to stop me going barmy. And you’ve gotta admit it’s a bit off-putting with him earwigging and staring at us. Look at him!” He knew he was starting to sound slightly deranged but he was almost delirious with frustration – and the dog wasn’t budging. “And while you’re at it, how about getting Henry the bloody Handyman to rig up a baby-gate or something at the bottom of the stairs?”

Armie burst out laughing. “What are you, some sort of sex maniac?” Then he got up and ushered Archie back down the stairs and closed the door. He turned back to Tim who had laid down again and was coaxing his cock back to full-mast. “Better now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blame the hours of quick-release-knot research for the delay in posting 🤣
> 
> I hope you liked this sexy little chapter - and the next one is pretty much written you shouldn’t have to wait too long. 
> 
> Thank you as ALWAYS dear readers for your comments and encouragement (especially in these strange times eh?) - you are why I do this. So thank you 💛💙💕 and I look forward to reading what you thought x


	10. Halfway Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie tries to concentrate  
> Timmy tries to stay out of trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The first picture is from the York Art Gallery - see end notes  
> *The second picture is mine looking at York Minster from a snickleway  
> *The third picture was yet another one of those strange flukes 
> 
> Enjoy! 🤍

  
Armie’s workload had piled up monumentally in the two days since Timmy had crash landed from outer-space and into his home, and he was starting to feel anxious about it. Yes, he was the boss, but there were certain things that simply couldn’t be delegated. Given that he’d only recently taken tentative steps to reconnect with his family, the last thing he needed was to give them another reason to be pissed off at him. And taking his eye off the AHI ball was sure to do that.

So after a breakfast of croissants and coffee in bed followed by a sexy, soapy shower together, he’d given Timmy strict instructions that he wasn’t to be disturbed, and that he would just have to try and stay out of trouble and amuse himself for a few hours.

But the truth of it was, after less than fifteen minutes of wading through emails, Armie was finding it virtually impossible to concentrate. Timmy was such a distraction! And he wasn’t even in the house right now - he'd popped out to the shops first thing for ‘supplies’, whatever that meant. He slammed down the lid of his laptop, closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair - and daydreamed about last night…

…once Archie was back downstairs and with the doggy-com turned off, their lovemaking had become passionate and desperate for fear of any more interruptions, with lots of kissing and biting until their lips were swollen and their cocks were throbbing. In a delicious tangle of arms and legs they’d come in each other’s mouths at the same time, which was something Armie had never experienced before.

And afterwards in bed watching the worrying and depressing BBC News, Timmy had cradled his head and stroked his hair in a way that Armie couldn’t remember anybody doing - _ever_ , and told him _‘we’re gonna be fine’._

Later, as the light was leaving the sky, they’d stood at the open front window with its breath-taking view of York Minster and shared a cigarette and talked about all the places they’d like to visit when lockdown was lifted. Then when it was completely dark, Armie had patiently shown Timmy how to use the telescope - and was touched, almost to the point of tears, at his sheer child-like joy when the rings of Saturn eventually came into focus. Which then started a long debate on whether there was in fact life on other planets.

Armie didn’t need much convincing – he already knew that an otherworldly being from a faraway universe was walking on earth amongst mere mortals such as himself and had taken residence in his home. And his heart.

There hadn’t been any need for the awkward conversation about who was sleeping where because Tim had simply nodded off part-way through episode six of Tiger King, curled against Armie’s side. And this morning when he was still deep asleep beside him, laid on his back looking like a Michelangelo masterpiece, Armie couldn’t resist just _touching_ him – the soft skin of his shoulder, his plump bottom lip, that one lock of hair that had a life of its own, the tiny swell of his lower stomach slowly rising and falling with his breaths – and he found himself hard again. He was irresistible.

But as well as the overwhelming physical desire he felt, Armie recognised that Timmy brought out the best in _him_. These past few weeks had been like waking up from an emotional coma. Timmy was the embodiment of every dream he’d _ever_ had about the lovely boyfriend he thought he’d _never_ have. He even found his propensity for drama and chaos to be completely and utterly endearing. He loved everything about him – everything…

…Armie opened his laptop and checked the time. _Fuck_! He realised with horror that he’d been sat staring into space and just _contemplating Timmy_ for over twenty minutes! Oh shit! He had an important zoom call to prep for. How the hell was he going to focus on _anything_ let alone the final-stage negotiations for a vitally important social housing development? It was ridiculous. Was it normal to feel like this? What could he do?

He looked around the room at the thousands of books as if the answer was hidden in the pages somewhere, then his eyes rested on his precious William Etty _‘Male Nude with Arms Up-Stretched’_ on the wall behind his chair. The fact that the bound, naked man bore more than a passing resemblance to Timmy in the kitchen yesterday wasn’t lost on him. Although, amazingly, his conscious mind hadn’t actually connected the two – until now.

“Any suggestions?” he asked out loud, in the vague hope that the two-hundred-year-old oil painting might somehow be able to help. It was worth a try…

…and an idea popped into his head. He’d read about it. Now what was it called… like when people with arachnophobia are made to hold tarantulas in their hands…? Exposure therapy! That was it!

He’d had an aversion to all types of psycho-twaddle ever since his parents had forced him to see a church counsellor following the, in their words, ‘deeply shameful’ Guys & Dolls incident – but perhaps the more he _exposed_ himself, as it were, to Timmy, the novelty would eventually wear off. He wouldn’t be so obsessed with him…he’d be able to concentrate better on his work, and maybe…

Oh, who the fuck was he trying to kid? He was a goner.

Armie looked back up at the painting. “Yep. I’m screwed!”

Timmy carried his shopping bag up to ‘the dumping ground’ then popped his head around the door of the library. Armie was hunched over the huge wooden desk with his head down, scowling at the laptop and scribbling on a notepad at the side of him. His hair was still slightly damp from their earlier shower and a stray lock curled over his eyebrow. Tim smiled - oh this handsome, kind man had no idea how adorable he looked, even when he was frowny and serious.

He watched him for a few seconds then tapped a little tune with his fingertips on the wooden door. “Hi there. Sorry to disturb you but is it ok if I go check out the pool?”

Armie’s face instantly softened and he put down his pen and came across the room. “Of course. You really don’t have to ask though. My home is now your home.” He reached out and rubbed Tim’s arm. “But just, you know…”

“I know, I know,” Tim said, and then in a pitch perfect impersonation of Armie’s deep, serious voice, _“Don’t break anything Timotay!”_

Armie threw his head back and laughed. “Ok, you’ve got me. Go on. Have a good swim. Then we’ll meet in the garden for an early lunch and you can show me what you’ve bought.” He cupped his hand around the back of Tim’s head and leaned in and kissed him. And then kissed him again. “This afternoon I thought, if you want, how about you come and sit with me in here while I work. Only if you want to that is.”

“Yes please! And can I maybe read some of these as well?” Tim said, gesturing at the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. He was way more excited by the library than any of the other fancy-schmancy things in the house if the truth be told, and he hopped from foot to foot at the thought of getting his little mitts on all these books.

“Of course. You can spend as much time in here as you like. On the condition you remain silent and don’t distract me if I’m on a call or a zoom. That’s my only rule.”

Timmy gave a mock salute. “Message received loud and clear!” but on his way out of the door he couldn’t help calling out, “Rules are meant to be broken Hornpot!” then he scarpered down the stairs before Armie could come chasing after him.

Surprisingly, the basement was bathed in early morning sunlight – how was that possible? Timmy wandered over to the far side of the room and looked up. There was a long, angled sky-light that he figured must be sunken into the garden somewhere, allowing light to stream in, with shutters that could be closed if darkness was preferred – how clever!

The pool looked so inviting with sunshine dancing over it and light bouncing off the gleaming stainless steel and reflecting onto the white walls. He bent down to test the temperature, trailing his fingers in the warm water – perfect, of course. He loved to swim whenever he got the chance and couldn’t wait to jump in - but what to wear? Was it impolite to swim bare-arsed in someone else’s pool?

His clothes were all now in the laundry room awaiting the imminent arrival of the housekeeper. And besides, he wasn’t sure he even _owned_ any swimming kegs - there hadn’t been much call for them when he’d moved to Yorkshire in the middle of winter. Swimming in the river here was completely out of the question at _any_ time of the year - not a month went past without some poor pissed-up bugger plunging into the murky depths of the freezing Ouse, some never to be seen again.

But hadn’t Armie said he went in the pool starkers anyway? Tim was pretty certain he had. Although a lot of alcohol had been consumed that day so he couldn’t be absolutely sure …but, what the hell. There was no one to see him down here anyway. He’d have a quick swim, then back into his borrowed clothes to join Armie for lunch until his own gear was de-moused later today. Sorted!

He quickly undressed and dropped the trackie where he stood, checked that the cut on his heel was still glued together, walked back to the far wall, took a running jump - and dive-bombed into the pool like a twelve-year-old! “Woo hoo!” His voice echoed around the basement. This was bloody marvellous – and how freeing it was to swim naked!

Timmy splashed about for a bit, enjoying the sensations and tested out the depth by sinking to the bottom and doing handstands, then he started swimming lengths up and down. He didn’t count them but instead, mentally ran through his lines from Hamlet as he swam. He wanted to keep them fresh in his mind on the slim off-chance that the production might be back on once the virus had fucked off, whenever that might be. But if it wasn’t ever coming back on, what the hell was he going to do?

Despite feeling safe and happy right now in this beautiful home with this dream-boat of a man and with money in the bank, he couldn’t stop this awful panicky feeling washing over him whenever he thought about the future. Without that job, there was no valid reason for him to be in the UK. And his money wasn’t going to last forever. Should he go back home and live with his parents for a while? Or would he be better going straight to LA in the hopes of making connections and getting more work? And what would happen between him and Armie? Was he making it harder on himself the longer he stayed here?

Oh god, his head hurt just thinking about it. Why was adult stuff so complicated? He lay back, closed his eyes, spread out his arms and legs, and floated starfish-stylee with the warm sun from the skylights beaming down on to his pale skin. It felt nice and he tried to empty his brain and just _zen-the-fuck-out_ \- but of course it didn’t work….

_… do dogs really have nightmares? And if so, what about? Was it possible to tan through glass? Do aliens have genitals? Is there a York river-pusher or is it just an urban myth? Did Carole Baskin really feed her husband to the big cats? How do you know when you’re in love...?_

What the hell!?! This was meant to be relaxing! Plus he suddenly remembered he’d agreed to take Archie out for a walk while Armie was working, which he was really looking forward to – not! Picking up dog-shite was hardly on his top-ten list of ‘things to do in lockdown’, but he figured he had to earn his keep somehow.

He hoisted himself out of the water and realised he’d forgotten to bring a towel. But logic told him that in this perfect house there must be a stash of them around here somewhere…in fact, hadn’t he seen some on a shelf in the gym yesterday?

He padded his way around the pool, dripping a trail of water as he went, and then opened the door to the small, mirrored room …

… “ _Aggghhh!”_

He jumped back and cupped both hands over his dangly bits. “Who the fuck are you?”

Laid there, sweating and grunting and going hell-for-leather on a complicated looking black and white gym contraption, was a short, middle-aged man with pumped-out muscles and spiked-up hair, wearing a weird cropped-top and a pair of the skimpiest black shiny shorts Timmy had ever seen outside of a gay club. You could see what bloody religion he was they were that tight! Oh, and with earrings in. Big ones with skulls dangling off them.

Without missing a beat, the man looked across and said, “Tracey,” and carried on bench-pressing something that looked heavier than Tim, his face bright red with exertion and the veins bulging on his huge, inked biceps. Timmy noticed then that the ‘cropped-top’ wasn’t clothing after all, but was in fact a pair of petrifying bozz-eyed British Bulldog tit-tats with strategically placed nipple piercings as if the damn things had rings through their noses. He was like a camp Motörhead fan - on steroids!

“You’re Tracey?” Tim bent over and caught his breath. His heart was pounding. “ _You’re_ Tracey? Jesus fucking Christ, you scared me! Sorry, that was rude. It’s just that…he never said anything about…sorry, sorry. Ignore me. I’m Timmy. Armie’s…friend. Nice to meet you.” He instinctively held out his hand but then realised that not only was he breaking Covid rules but that he’d just been holding his balls in it.

He quickly pulled his arm back and feigned nonchalance by holding onto the handrail of the running machine - well, as nonchalant as one can be _stark bollock naked with a handful of wet wedding-tackle!_ “So you’re er… into body-building then?” Oh god, why the fuck was he striking up a conversation when he really just wanted the ground to swallow him up. And he was having awful trouble keeping all his bits encased in one hand!

Tracey momentarily paused for a few seconds and looked Timmy up and down as if deciding how much this twinky, naked idiot needed to know. Then he said, “Ah were brought up in ‘Ull int eighties un ah were a fat jinner queer wiya lass’s name,” and then resumed his vigorous work-out, as if that was explanation enough.

Having worked with a set designer from Bransholme for two months, Timmy just about fathomed out the lingo, and yes, that did explain a _lot_ \- but _fucking hell_ , Armie could have said something! “I’ll er…I’m just gonna go. Thanks for doing my laundry.” He grabbed a white towel from the shelf, wrapped it around his middle and then raced up the stairs, two at a time, and burst into the library.

“You could have chuffing warned me!”

Armie looked up with raised eyebrows and then back at his screen. “Sorry Viktor, can I call you back later.” He swivelled his chair around to face Timmy. “What part of _don’t disturb me when I’m working_ wasn’t clear. It was literally my one and only rule.”

Timmy marched into the room. “Sod your rules. I’ve just met Tracey downstairs in the gym. And she’s a _he!_ I made a right tit of myself. He scared the living shit out of me. I think a bit of bloody wee came out!”

Armie managed to maintain his stern face for about five seconds, before bursting out laughing. “What is it with you? Every single goddamn day there’s a different drama.”

Timmy was already mellowing. Armie’s smile had the ability to do that. “Good job I was already dripping wet from the pool that’s all I can say.” He huffed out a laugh and screwed his face up in embarrassment at the recent memory.

“He gets here early to use the gym before he starts on the house. I should have told you. Sorry, I didn’t think. His husband Henry was one of the contractors on this place, and they’ve worked for me ever since I moved here. They help out at the foodbank as well sometimes. But yeah, I guess he’s not your typical housekeeper.”

“Not your typical bloody housekeeper?!? Not your…Jesus Armie! It’s been _Tracey this_ and _Tracey that_ for the last few days. Not once did you even _hint_ that it was a forty-something muscleman covered in terrifying fucking tattoos, with dangly deaths-head earrings and a ginger Mohican. I was picturing a woman of a certain age in a flowered pinny with a feather duster.”

Armie smiled. “Trust me, looks can be deceiving. That man has a heart of gold. In fact I don’t know what I’d have done without them both over the last couple of years to be honest… anyway, come here.” He patted his knee. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Oh god what? Are you sick of me already? I knew you’d get sick of me. Is it because I break stuff? I could…”

“Shush. Stop saying that. You’re lovely and I’m not sick of you. Quite the opposite. You’ve no idea…” Armie took a breath and pushed his hair back from his forehead. “But there is something I feel you should know. I don’t want you to freak out, but I’ve done a lot of thinking this morning. And I want to be truthful with you.”

Timmy came over and sat upright on Armie’s lap, facing away from him. “About what?” He was still in a strop but it was hard to stay angry when you could feel the hardening cock of the man you were completely smitten with poking you in the arse.

“Lay back,” Armie said, wrapping an arm around Timmy’s middle and easing him back against his body. He rested a hand on Tim’s throat and thumbed a small, dark mark. “Did I do that?”

“And the rest!” said Tim, smiling now. Then he spotted the painting. “Hey! Is that where you got the idea from?” he asked, pointing over to where it hung on the wall between the two large Georgian windows. “And here’s me thinking your little rope-trick was spontaneous.”

Armie glanced over to it and smiled. “Believe it or not I honestly didn’t see the connection until today. Pure coincidence.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Quinkydink my arse! He’s the spitting image of me all trussed up on your pan rack.”

“Quinky what?” Armie laughed and shook his head and pulled Tim closer against him and ran his hands down from his throat, over his collar-bones and ribs and down to his stomach. “He’s way more ripped than you.”

Timmy shuffled on Armie’s lap and laid his head back. The towel bunched up at his waist, and his cock, having clearly gotten over the shock of meeting Tracey, had already started to harden. “I _am_ skinny sir.”

Armie tightened his hold on him and sucked a small kiss into his neck. “And don’t I just fucking love that.” His voice was deep and low with arousal already and he parted his thighs and pushed his hips up to grind against Tim.

Timmy reached around and pulled Armie’s white, formal shirt out of his pants at the front and pushed his hands inside. “So I’m guessing you don’t want me to start working-out with Tracey then?”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” said Armie, and he yanked off Tim’s damp towel and threw it down on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I have a story about the painting. When I first mentioned Armie having a William Etty original way back in the middle of Season One, I had a portrait of a woman I'd seen in York Gallery in mind. But when I came to write the first part of this chapter I just couldn't quite get that bit right - it just felt 'off'. So I searched through the York Museum Trust archives - and wow! 'Male Nude With Arms Upstretched' - a full two weeks after I'd written the last chapter about...well...a male nude with arms upstretched. What a bloody quinkydink indeed! 🔮
> 
> Anyhoo, I know I say this every time I post but I really do mean it from the bottom of my little anxious writers heart - thank you thank you thank you 😊
> 
> And I would LOVE LOVE LOVE to read your comments. Peace & 🖤
> 
> PS - if you need any East Yorkshire translations let me know 🤣


	11. ‘ULL

Ok, so this is not a chapter but I’ve been asked for a ‘Tracey translation’ a few times and I thought this was a good way to do it. Here goes...

  * Ah were - I was
  * Brought up - raised
  * In ‘Ull - in the town of Kingston-Upon-Hull
  * Jinner -person with red hair
  * Lass - girl



In other words, on the less-enlightened mean-streets of a working-class northern English city in the 1980’s, ‘Tracey’ had a lot of ‘challenges’ shall we say - hence the scary appearance. 

And for the record this is an almost direct quote from someone I know when asked why he was a bit of a hard-nut 🤣 (his name isn’t Tracey but IS traditionally a girls name and shhhh don’t tell him I’ve used this)

I’ve been waiting for the right opportunity to use it for over a year! 

One last thing, ‘Ull is my husband’s home town and I have a great affection for the place and in fact it was the European City of Culture for 2017...but _damn_ , the accent is out there 🤣

[All About Hull ](https://www.planetware.com/tourist-attractions-/hull-kingston-upon-hull-eng-hb-hu.htm)


End file.
